


Threadbare

by FairyLights101



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Universe, Confessions, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, HQSS 2016, Haikyuu Secret Santa 2016, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Panic Attacks, Red String of Fate, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9019015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: Hajime has always been able to see the seven strings of Fate that tie people together. It's overrated in his opinion. It's more trouble than it's worth to see the potential for relationships and lives usually. But the golden ties that lead him and Tooru to Takahiro and Issei put things into a new perspective - and open a world bound by chance.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon/gifts).



> Yoooo this is for the [HQSS2016 event](http://hqss2016.tumblr.com/) and for tumblr user [seijouho](http://seijouho.tumblr.com/)! Happy Holidays to ya! (╯✧∇✧)╯
> 
> This does contain cheating, though this is NOT between the main characters, and suicidal thoughts do play a big role in the plot, but it never goes past that.
> 
> EDIT: the absolutely _phenomenal_ fanart at the bottom and [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/BQeC7g1AJVL/) is from rabbitminnow, an awesome person you can find on [deviantart](http://rabbitminnow.deviantart.com/), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/rabbitminnow/), and [tumblr](http://rabbitminnow.tumblr.com/)!!!
> 
> ReEDIT: _Threadbare_ has more [fanart](https://snoftviktor.tumblr.com/post/163535030150/vent-art-inspired-by-fairylights101writes-fic) from the amazing [snoftviktor](https://snoftviktor.tumblr.com/) and I'm positively in love with it and you all need to yell at them right now about how amazing that piece is !!!!

“Hey Tooru.” Hajime didn’t stop digging in the dirt, and neither did Tooru - they were used to interrupting the quiet of bug hunting.

“Yeah?”

Hajime swallowed hard. He was nervous, but it felt stupid. He shouldn’t be afraid - Tooru wouldn’t tell him he was stupid, or having a nice dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. Tooru always believed him. “Can you see the strings?”

 _That_ made Tooru still. Hajime hesitated before he looked up. Tooru stared at him, brown eyes wide and dirt streaked on his round cheeks. “Strings?” he said.

Hajime’s heart fell and he rocked back onto his heels. His head fell between his knees. He buried his hands into the warm, moist earth. “Nevermind,” he mumbled with a shake of his head.

“Hajime.” Green eyes stayed rooted down as his hands dragged at the churned earth. “ _Hajime_.”

He looked up. Tooru’s eyes felt heavy on him, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Hajime, what do you mean?”

“I…” His eyes fell back to his hands, and he traced the path that the braided strings took from his pinky to Tooru’s. The green string was a lot thicker - that made it easier to see the gold that spotted it in the right light. The red one was smaller, but that was the only one he had a name for - “the Red String of Fate” according to his Mom. And yet she’d said it was a ‘myth’, something that wasn’t real. _But they feel real when I touch them, and they look real._ Hajime cleared his throat. “I can see these strings. They… connect people.”

“Oh!” Tooru chirped, eyes bright, “Like the red string thing?”

Hajime nodded. “But no one else can see them. And they’re not just red.” Tooru cocked his head to the side and he blinked, a sign for Hajime to continue. That made him warm, and so he did with a tiny smile. “There’re red ‘n purple ‘n green ones on people’s pinkies, ‘n orange ones on their hearts. People who’re gonna be moms have white ones on their bellies, and some people have black or yellow on them.”

As he spoke Tooru’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t say a word. Hajime swallowed again, harder, and he raked his dirty hands through his messy hair. “No one believes me though… And I dunno what they mean. But… you ‘n I have a red and green one. Like our parents.”

Those brown eyes, already huge, spread even wider and Tooru gasped. “We have _two_?”

“Yeah, but I dunno what they mean.”

Tooru smiled. “That’s okay. We can figure it out together, Hajime! Plus my Mom says that the Internet’ll tell you anything you want to know, so you can always use that!”

“True…”

Tooru’s smile widened, and he grabbed Hajime’s hands, his fingers warm and long. “You’re so cool Hajime! I wish I could see the strings too! Can you touch them?”

Hajime nodded, and he plucked the green and red strand on his right hand with his left thumb and forefinger. A smile flashed in his face, teeth crooked, but familiar and warm. Brown eyes glittered above them, teasing. He smiled as it faded, leaving him with a replica of that face before him. Tooru didn’t seem to have noticed, his brown eyes glued to the string. His eyes scrunched up as he squinted hard, but after a moment he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t see them,” he whined, “I wish I could… Describe them for me! Please, Hajime?”

The way he stared at Hajime made it hard to resist, so he nodded and spoke slowly as he studied them. “Well, mine is on my right hand, ‘n yours is on your left. It’s both of them, but braided together.”

“Like Aki’s hair?”

“Yeah. But just those two.”

“Wow…” Tooru breathed, “We must be _really_ special to each other!”

“Of course we are,” Hajime grumbled as he crossed his arms and looked away, glaring at the dirt.

Brown-stained palms grabbed his and he looked up, surprised. Tooru beamed at him, his smile bright. “Hajime, you’re so awesome!”

Hajime’s cheeks went hot and he batted Tooru’s hands away. “Shuddup and look for more bugs.” Tooru huffed, but he buried his hands into the earth and started to dig. Hajime smiled to himself as he watched his friend for a moment. He pulled another beetle from the earth and dropped it into the jar beside him.

They mostly worked in silence as the warm day wore on. When the sky began to darken they collected their green plastic shovels, jars, and Hajime’s bug net in their dirt-caked hands and trooped out of the woods behind Tooru’s house. Hajime gave Tooru a hug and jogged back to his house, net bouncing on his shoulder, the jar swinging in his hand. _Tomorrow I’ll catch lightning bugs and put them in here too._

He grinned down at his jar, crawling with worms and beetles and crickets and he opened the door to his house. “ _Maa_ , Dad, I’m home!” he called as he toed his shoes off.

“Come to the bathroom, _priye_ ,” his Mom called. “You need to wash your hands before dinner!”

“‘kay!” he called back. He set the bug net and shovels on the little table in the entryway, and the jar of bugs in the kitchen on a counter he could barely reach the top of, then he darted off to the bathroom where he heard water running.

His _Maa_ stood over the sink, washing her hands and arm beneath the warm water. Beautiful fresh henna covered her right arm, and Hajime smiled as he watched her wash the rest of it off. “That’s really pretty, _maa_.”

She smiled and glanced over. “Thank you, _priye_. I was thinking of you when I drew it.” He grinned as she turned off the water and turned to fully look at him. Her green eyes widened. “Goodness Hajime, you’re filthy.” But that was said with a smile, and she nodded. “Bring your stool in here. We can wash your hands together.”

“Okay!”

He darted out of the bathroom, down the hall, into his room, then the bathroom, careful to not touch anything. He grabbed his stool and rushed back, and his mother smiled warmly and made room for him. He clambered up and stuck his hands under the faucet, and his mother turned the water on, warm but not hot. She spread soap into his hands, and together they washed their hands, hers darker than his despite the dirt. The water grew brown. She put fresh soap in his hands. A red string whispered across the back of his hand and Hajime smiled. Then frowned.

The red string around his mother’s pink no longer extended on and on - instead it stopped short, like it had been cut or torn. He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. That was the string that connected her to his father, braided with a green one. But now the green one was alone, though it looked like it was in bad shape. _That wasn’t how it looked this morning, was it?_

Soft lips brushed across his temple “You okay, _priye_? Tired?”

He blinked and started to scrub his hands again. “Yeah,”he said softly, “I’m tired.” But truly he was _scared_. He didn’t know what the red meant, or the green. But he knew that when his fingers brushed across his mother’s red and green strings they felt off - dead and dying. He hurriedly washed his hands, and once he’d dried them off his mother reached for his hand.

That broken string swayed above him, taunting him with all it meant that he didn’t know. He didn’t take her hand. Hurt flashed across her face, but she smiled and ruffled his hair. “Let’s go set the table, yeah? Your Dad will be home soon. He’s been staying so late at work that he must be exhausted and hungry.”

Hajime nodded - but the thought of his Dad coming home, of seeing those strings, scared him. But he tried his best to crush that as he followed his other to the kitchen. She handed him the utensils - just chopsticks tonight - while she laid the plates out. She helped him pour his drink, that deep red string swinging around his glass as she did. He looked away. She felt his forehead. Kissed it. The front door opened.

“Darling, Hajime, I’m home,” his Dad called.

Hajime swallowed hard and rubbed his neck.

His mother smiled. “Welcome home dear. Dinner’s ready.”

“Smells good,” his Dad hummed as he stepped in.

Hajime’s eyes fell to his father’s right hand. There were two red strings. The one to his mother, the one he’d seen every single day of his life, had snapped. And the second was foreign - to a person he hadn’t met.

“Hajime?”

He blinked. His Mom peered at him, concerned. “Are you okay? Did you bup your head when you were playing?” He shook his head. Her frown deepened. “What about your tummy? How’s that?”

He opened his mouth. She reached up to brush his hair back and he flinched, that red string swinging in front of his face. “I… don’t really feel too good,” he mumbled.

“Oh baby,” she murmured, “Do you want to go to bed?” He nodded. “Well, I’ll-”

“I can do it, _Maa_.”

She stared at him for a moment before she nodded too. “Okay.”

He slid out of his chair.

“Goodnight, Hajime,” his Dad said.

Hajime couldn’t help but look back. His Dad looked tired, hair a little messy, glasses low on his nose, eyes reddened. His eyes fell to his Dad’s hand. To that new string.

He turned and slowly walked to the bathroom. He got into the shower and scrubbed his skin raw. Pulled his Godzilla pajamas on and crawled into his bed. His chest felt heavy. His eyes burned. But when he closed them he could only see those tattered strings. He closed his eyes tight anyways. Turned his back to his door.

It felt like hours passed before it opened and a sliver of light fell across him. He hugged his stuffed Godzilla closer, but otherwise he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Didn’t want them to know.

A soft sigh - his Mom’s. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

“He’ll be fine. Probably just wore himself out playing with Tooru.”

“Maybe…” The door closed after a moment.

Hajime let out a shaky breath, and all at once the burning became too much and he started to cry. He wasn’t sure when, but he eventually fell asleep, eyes aching and still crying his body heavy. One thought on his mind. _Were their strings always like that? Were they always that worn and messed up?_

When he woke up the next morning his eyes were swollen and his voice was rough. His Dad had already left for work - being a professor at a big school and doing summer classes meant he was at work a lot.

That tattered string teased Hajime as his Mom made him breakfast that he listlessly poked at until she put her hand to his forehead once more, her face scrunched up. “You’re still not hot… But Hajime, I don’t want you going out and playing today, okay? You just look ill.”

His eyes snapped up. “But I promised Tooru-”

“And Tooru will understand. I’ll call his mom, okay?”

“But-”

“No, Hajime. I want you to rest.”

Her deep green eyes pinned him down, and after a few moments of silence he gave in and nodded. “Fine…”

“Good.” She ruffled his hair, kissed his temple. “I love you so much, my Haji.”

He smiled. “Love you too, _Maa_.”

She grinned and scratched his head for a moment. “Good. Now eat as much as you can.”

He nodded and stared at his food. The first bite made him realize just how hungry he was, and he devoured the rest of it with a smile. When he glanced up his Mom was smiling too as she watched him, warm and soft. “Thank you,” he said as he swallowed his last bite.

“Of course, _priye_ .” He pushed his chair back and took his plate to the sink - he was big enough to do that himself, thank you very much. As he closed the washer up his mother spoke, her voice soft. “ _Priye_ , you know you can tell my anything, right?”

Hajime’s hands went tight at his sides. He glanced behind him and found the red string that swayed as she held her coffee, eyes on him. “Of course, _Maa_.”

“Good.” Her smile widened as she came up beside him and ruffled his hair. “Now, do you want to watch some cartoons?”

A chipper ‘yes!’ almost left him, but as she said that she brushed her hair back, and the red string swayed once more, teasing him. His hands tightened until his nails dug into his palms. “Can... I use the computer for a little bit?”

His Mom blinked, but she nodded. “Sure. Let me get it started up.”

He trailed after her and watched as she started it up. He clambered into the chair. His Mom ran her fingers through his hair with a soft hum before she left. He waited an extra second before he opened the Internet. It loaded slowly and he reached forward until his short arms could reach the keyboard.

He typed slowly, tongue stuck out in concentration. _“What dose a red string on my finger meen?”_ Satisfied he hit enter and waited as things popped up on the page. He clicked on the first page - “The String of Fate”. The site had cherry blossom trees on it, and soft music started to play. He ignored it and scrolled, lips moving as he read and glanced at the pictures.

Twenty minutes passed before he sank back, eyes burning with fresh tears as he sniffed and scrubbed at his face. The red string meant love - _romantic love_ . What had made his parents get together and bring him to life. _Does this mean Dad doesn’t love Maa anymore?_

He bit back a wail and curled in on himself, sniffling as he clung to his arms. “He can’t,” he whimpered into his knees, “Dad can’t…” He shuddered and pressed his palms to his face and bit his lip. _Does this mean he’s gonna leave? I thought they were supposed to love each other forever!_ That was what the site had said - that the string meant ‘soulmates’, and soulmates were for forever. He gasped and bit his lip harder as he rubbed his eyes. _Stupid! Baby! Don’t cry! It can still be fixed!_

Hajime wiped his face off and took a few deep breaths. When he felt a little better he leaned forward once more. He changed ‘red’ to the other colors he’d seen - green, purple, orange, white, yellow, black. Nothing showed up except for results for the red string. _Why?_

Hajime growled and slapped his leg, angry. But then he sighed, and closed the browser and shut the computer down. He slid out of the chair and drifted to his room. The young boy crawled under his covers. Dragged them over him and curled up and wiped his eyes.

Once his face was dry he raised his hand. Stared at the red and green strings on his pinky. Then at the orange ones on his heart. At the one that led to his mother. He pulled them all together and stared at them as they shone softly in the dark. They felt like they had little heartbeats, warm and quiet in his hand. He tugged on them. Something in his chest twitched. The warmth spread as they pulled on his skin. He smiled, weary, and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

He didn’t know what the orange and green meant, but if they tied him to Tooru and his Mom and Tooru’s parents, then he didn’t mind. And if he was a ‘soulmate’ with Tooru - well, he didn’t mind that either. He loved Tooru. They were best friends of course. Forever and always. Hajime smiled.

A red string, snapped and frayed, flashed in his mind.

Hajime went still. The smile slipped of his face. “ _Maa_ … Dad…” he whispered. Hajime curled in tighter on himself. He didn’t want his parents to not love each other anymore. He didn’t want to lose them. Hajime sniffled. Took his Mom’s orange string between his fingers. Warmth bloomed in his chest. His Mom’s face flickered before him, her smile bright, her green eyes soft. It disappeared as quick as it had come, but the image left him warm as he fell asleep.

His Mom woke him a few hours later, and Hajime obediently followed her to get a snack. His Dad sat at the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. Hajime’s steps stuttered, but he clambered into his chair, face scrunched. His Mom set a glass of orange juice and a pack of crackers in front of him. His Dad looked over as Hajime opened them and started to eat. “How’re you feelin’, kiddo?”

“Okay,” he mumbled. He could feel his Dad’s eyes on him as he slowly chewed, the loud crunches filling the quiet. He ignored the look and stared at the red string draped across the table. Whole and perfect. Strange.

An idea struck him.

He reached out for the napkins in the middle of the table and let his fingers brush across that deep red string. A hazy image appeared a woman with a long, slender face that was pale, not like his Mom’s soft, round, dark face. Long, straight red hair, totally different from his Mom’s deep brown waves of hair. Bright blue eyes, not a deep green. Freckles, not henna.

Hajime snatched his hand away with a gasp. Hit his glass. It tumbled down and shattered, and Hajime flinched, even as his Mom rushed over. “Oh, Hajime!”

“I’m sorry, _Maa_ ,” he whispered, heart pounding as he pulled his legs to his chest. The orange juice spread on the tiles, glass everywhere. He sniffed.

“No, Haji, baby, it’s okay, it was just an accident,” she said. His Mom carefully stepped over the glass and puddle and dipped some paper towels into it, then cupped his face. “It’s alright baby, don’t cry.”

Hajime blinked. Felt the dampness on his face and how tight his throat was. A loud sob ripped through his chest and he lunged into her soft arms.

She pulled him into a tight hug, one hair in his hair, one on his back. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she murmured, “Don’t worry.”

He turned his head. Saw red. He sobbed harder, clung tighter to his Mom. Only when he stopped crying did she pull away and wipe the snot and tears from his face, then mop up the juice and pick up the glass. She poured him another.

He didn’t look at his Dad as he slowly ate and drank. Didn’t respond when his Dad spoke to him. He just stared at the table and chewed, no longer really hungry. He was on his last cracker when he finally looked up, just to his Mom. “ _Maa_ , can I play with Tooru tomorrow?”

She turned to him, and the worry on her face made him go still. “Hajime, I’d rather take you to the doctor.”

He stiffened and shook his head. “I’m fine _Maa_ , really!”

“Hajime-”

“Dear,” his Dad said, “He’s not running a fever, and he hasn’t thrown up. He’s probably just had a fight with Tooru that upset him.”

Hajime and his Mom frowned, but she finally nodded with a soft sigh. “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you. Can I go to my room?”

“Of course, _priye_ ,” his Mom said.

He slid off his chair and padded off to his room. He laid in his bed, Godzilla pulled tight to his chest. He stretched his hand out and stared at the green and red strings woven together. He touched the green.

Tooru’s face appeared. A brilliant smile tugged at his lips, bold and brave, his eyes shining. There was dirt on his cheek. A tooth missing. His hair truly messy. Hajime smiled as the image faded, and his finger slid to the red. Another image of Tooru. This time his toothy smile was softer - warmer. His eyes were bright, hair swept to the side, nicely done. Tooru’s face shifted so he fully faced him, and that smile widened, warmed Hajime all over. And then the picture slowly went away.

Hajime buried his face into Godzilla and hugged him closer as he smiled faintly. _I’m glad I’m soulmates with Tooru._ The thought stayed with him the rest of the day, and on the next he woke early - not early enough to see his Dad thankfully - and he got dressed. His Mom waved him on and he darted down the street to Tooru’s house, and Mrs. Oikawa opened the door with a grin. “Hey Hajime, how are you? Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”

“I am, Hajime, thank you.” She kissed his forehead and combed her fingers through his hair, just like his Mom did. “Go wake Tooru up. I’ll get breakfast started.”

“Okay!” He bounded upstairs and peeked into Tooru’s room. The light was out and the room was mostly dark, but he could see Tooru sprawled out on his bed, one left hanging off, his shirt halfway up his chest. His alien plush was curled close to his chest in one arm. There was a little drool on his chin. Hajime grinned. _Perfect._

He ran over and leapt onto the bed, just barely avoiding his friend. Tooru let out a squeak as he jerked awake, and Hajime laughed as limbs flailed. He caught Tooru’s hands and sat on his friend’s stomach as he grinned down at him. Tooru glared back up. “Meanie.”

“Lazy,” Hajime shot back.

Tooru stuck his tongue out and pushed Hajime to the side, and he landed next to Tooru on his alien blankets. The ceiling above was covered in star and planet stickers that glowed in the dark - Hajime could remember Mr. Oikawa putting them up. He and Tooru had flicked the lights on and off, and Hajime had admired Mr. Oikawa’s red and green strings to his wife, and the orange ones that connected Tooru’s parents to him. It had been a nice day.

A warm hand slid over his, pulled him away from the memories as Tooru took his hand, their fingers laced like a shoe. His right hand. Tooru’s left. Tooru raised them, and Hajime smiled. The red and green strings somehow moved on their own wrapped around their hands and tied them together. It made his skin grow warm. His smile broadened. He looked to the side.

Tooru was already looking at him, a brilliant look on his face, his missing teeth on display. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheeks, and his hair flopped on his face, messier than usual. “I’m so glad you’re my friend, Hajime.” The green string pulsed. Hajime nodded.

“Me too.”

Tooru grinned and let their hands fall back to the bed. But he didn’t unlink them. Tooru just wiggled closer. Put his head in Hajime’s neck so that his breath tickled Hajime, just a little. Hajime shivered, but Tooru was warm and it felt good, so he didn’t move. Tooru smiled against his skin. “I love you, Hajime.”

“I love you too, Tooru.” Tooru’s hand squeezed his and he nestled closer. Hajime smiled.

“Boys, breakfast is ready!” They both shot up and grinned at each other for a moment before they leapt off the bed and raced downstairs, laughing as they went. Mrs. Oikawa greeted them with a smile and herded them to the table, where she set down plates full of fluffy pancakes.

“Thank you!” the boys chorused, and they dug in. They devoured their food and squirmed when Mrs. Oikawa wiped the sticky syrup from their cheeks, and when they finished they darted back upstairs. Tooru hurriedly changed and they barreled back downstairs, tugged their shoes on, and fled the house with a call of “Be safe!” from Tooru’s mother.

They paid that no mind and ran, laughing and giggling, until they reached the creek in the woods behind Tooru’s house. Shoes and shirts went on the riverbank before they splashed their way into the warm water, grinning and out of breath. The boys shifted through the creekbed, looking for cool rocks - and bugs in Hajime’s case. He had a long worm cradled in his hand when Tooru piped up. “So Hajime, d’you know what the strings mean yet?”

Hajime’s hands stilled, and he slowly set the worm back down on the muddy bank. His chest tightened. “Yeah.”

He saw Tooru straighten up, his shorts soaked, his head cocked to the side. “Hajime?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

His fingers dug into the mud. Stared as those tattered red strings swung in his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

Warm, damp arms wrapped around him, pulled him up into a thin, bony chest. “I’m here, Haji,” Tooru murmured, “You don’t have to cry.” Hajime’s hand slowly rose to his face. Tears dripped onto his palm as the world blurred. Hajime’s hands trembled as they kept rising and he gripped Tooru’s bare chest with his muddy hands as he sobbed. Water babbled around their shins, masked the quiet sounds that shook him.

Tooru’s palms wandered to his back, pulled him close. “I’m here, Hajime.” Hajime sniffed and buried his face into Tooru’s neck. Slowly his tears dried, and Hajime allowd Tooru to nudge him to a rock on the bank. His friend squished his cheeks and smiled softly at him. Sadly. “I’m sorry I made you cry, Hajime.”

“You didn’t,” he grumbled, but the sniffle ruined it, and he didn’t swat Tooru’s hands away. They were warm. Nice. He leaned into them. “Just... the red one means people are gonna love each other That they’re soulmates. But…”

Tooru didn’t break the silence. A rarity for him, but he was good at being quiet when it mattered. It meant a lot to Hajime. Gave him the chance to find his words.

“My parents have a red ‘n green string too. But when I came home the other day I saw _Maa’s_ red string had broken. And her green string looks like crap. And… Dad has a new red string.”

Tooru wordlessly leaned forward and pulled Hajime close again as Hajime’s throat went tight. The boy clasped his arms around Hajime’s waist, his head in Tooru’s stomach, and Hajime let out a shaky breath. “I can touch strings and see the people they belong to too, y’know?”

“Hajime…”

He nodded. Bit his lip and swallowed back fresh tears. “I saw her. I don’t know her, but… But I think my Dad loves her now.” Those words broke it, and Hajime started to bawl, shaking as hey clung to each other. Tooru’s hands worked through his hair, down his bare back. But he could feel tears drop on his back - Tooru’s. They held each other tighter. Cried their hearts out. Sagged into each other, Hajime’s face pressed into Tooru’s neck. They sat there in silence. Unsure.

“Hey Tooru?”

“Yeah?”

“You… won’t ever leave me, right?”

Tooru’s hands and arms tightened on him. “Of course not.”

He sighed and nodded. His eyes were heavy and ached, and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep in Tooru’s arms. But he forced himself to pull away from that warm embrace. It took him a bit, but he managed to lean back and yawn. “Sorry… but I’m gonna go home.”

Tooru nodded, and pulled Hajime in for another tight hug. They rose. Their hands slid together. Hajime couldn’t help but smile. Tooru’s eyes were forward, and his toothy smile was soft. His eyes were bright, even if they were a little red. Tooru looked at him so Hajime could see his entire face, and that smile of his widened. Hajime’s chest went warm.

_Oh. This is familiar._

“I’ll always be with you, Hajime.”

“I know.”

They picked their way out of the woods, then down to the street. They hugged once more, and then Hajime began the trek home. It was slower than the walk he’d taken earlier. Heavier. But even so it wasn’t long before he was on his front porch once more. Hajime rubbed his tired eyes before he opened the front door. His greeting died on his lips.

“-maybe I don’t want to,” his Dad snapped, voice loud and angry. “I’m extremely busy you know! I’ve earned some rest!”

“Yes, I know,” his Mom sighed, “Ever since this semester started you’ve been too busy to spend time with me - with _your son_. No wonder he’s withdrawn. You-”

“Don’t pin it on me, you ass.”

“Jin!”

“He’s a kid, he’ll get over it.”

Hajime’s limbs found the will to move again. He edged back. Quietly closed the door. Sprinted back down the street, heart pounding, chest heaving. He was crying when Tooru answered the door. His friend just quietly took his hand and pulled him upstairs, then into his alien-covered bed. Tooru wiped his cheeks, held him close as he sobbed quietly until the pillow beneath him was soaked, and he fell asleep, too worn out to try and stay awake.

When he went home that night his parents were quiet, but he’d made sure to eat at Tooru’s so he wouldn’t have to sit with them. Or speak. But the fighting didn’t stop. At first it was just a few times, short and quiet. But by the time school had begun the fights happened more often.

They’d gotten louder.

He’d gotten quieter.

The months melted by.

October slipped in.

Hajime stared at his front door, resigned. _I don’t want to go in._ Going in meant that he’d have to try and avoid his parents more. Not always possible. It hurt - he wanted to nap with his Mom. To read with his Dad. To have a dinner with them and not feel a heavy weight on his chest or hear arguments after.

Hajime pressed his forehead to the deep red wood. He sighed. The knob was cool beneath his hands, scraped from another day of play with Tooru. He opened the door and stepped in. Feet froze. Blood ran cold.

His Mom’s cracking voice filled his world, loud, as he watched he throw an arm wide. “Well I’m sorry I can’t do anything right lately! I’m trying! I’ve been trying _so hard_ , but you don’t seem to care. You-”

“I’m fucking Nao.”

His Mom’s face went blank. A lone tear rolled down. The green string quivered. “W… what?”

“Nao. My teaching assistant. _She_ listens to me, _she_ -” His Dad’s voice cut off as a strangled sound broke in. Two pairs of eyes found Hajime.

He trembled against the door frame, clutching it with one hand as he tried to muffle his cries with the other. His limbs shook violently. His chest felt like it was going to cave in. _No. God, no._ His eyes weren’t on his parents - they’d fallen to their hands. To the green string. Hajime watched, horrified, as it started to unravel. One strand, then two. And then the whole thing flew apart, left only a tiny piece on each of his parents, small and frayed. Blackened at the end.

His body convulsed and he doubled over, but he didn’t throw up. He hitched with a sob instead, and tried to hold it all back as he bit into his hand. _They can’t… this can’t be happening - they have to stay together! They have to love each other! Dad can’t… he can’t…_

Soft arms wrapped around him, pulled him close. Flowery perfume tickled his nose as dark hair filled his eyes. “ _Priye_ ,” his Mom whispered, her voice thick, her native tongue rich, “ _Priye,_ I’m so sorry, I love you. I love you, my _priye_ , my sweet baby boy.”

A rough wail ripped out of his chest. A soft hand pulled his from his mouth, the bite marks deep. He trembled in her arms, sagged into her chest. Her hand pressed into the back of his head - to keep him from looking up, he realized. He stopped struggling against it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his ear.

Footsteps. He clung tighter to her, held her bright sweater in his aching fists. Hands brushed his shoulder. “Hajime-”

He pushed back and slapped his Dad’s hand away, tears pouring down his face and lips bared in a snarl. _“Don’t!”_ he spat, and his Dad flinched back, his face drawn with sadness. _“Go away!”_ His Dad had learned enough of his Mom’s native tongue to understand _that_.

He didn’t watch his Dad go. He just pressed closer into his Mom’s embrace, sniffling as they clutched at each other. “ _Maa_ ,” he choked out as his Dad’s footsteps faded, “ _Maa,_ I love you.”

She laughed, watery and weak. “I love you too, my Hajime.”

She pulled back, cupped his cheeks. Her face was round - rounder than his, and so soft, even with her high cheekbones and sharp nose. It had flushed red. Her makeup had run. The braid she’d pulled her hair back into as he’d left for school had come loose, and wisps of hair floated all around her tear-stained face. But her smile and hands were warm. Full of love.

“Hajime… never think this is your fault. Ever. You… you are a wonderful son, and-” Her voice cracked. He swallowed hard. Clutched her sweater tighter. “And you are my world. Forever, _priye_.”

He nodded. Pressed his face into her shoulder. Breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume and held tight as his Dad packed his suitcase. He left without another word. He left Hajime and his Mom sitting on the floor, two tattered strings trailing from her pinky, and the orange one that joined their hearts glowing, soft but strong as they wrapped around the two, as secure as the arms looped around Hajime’s small body. Just like the red and green ones on his pinky when the phone rang and his Mom rose to answer it.

The Oikawas - they’d called at Tooru’s behest. It took them just a few minutes to walk down, and his Mom opened the door while Hajime sat on the couch, staring blankly ahead. He barely registered the soft greetings, but when Mrs. Oikawa sank down in front of him he blinked. She smiled softly. “Hey, Hajime. Do you want a hug?”

He wordlessly stretched his arms out. Their orange string felt warm, and when she hugged him it wrapped tight around them both, just like it did when he hugged Mr. Oikawa. Their hugs were good, but when he escaped Mr. Oikawa’s embrace and found Tooru waiting, Hajime felt a fresh wave of tears well up.

Tooru didn’t say a word. He just held his arms out and Hajime stepped in, shaking and crying once more. Tooru’s arms felt so good. And the faint pressure as their green and red strings wove around them until it almost cocooned them from ankle to head was even better. It made Hajime feel warm - _safe_. And he never wanted to leave. And he understood what those strings meant. Red for love. Green for friendship. And his father had ruined them both.

Tooru and his parents were around his house a lot after that. Mrs. Oikawa cooked them a lot of food. Everyone hugged him a lot. His grandparents even came from India to spend two weeks. But throughout it all it was hard to react. To try.

He drifted through the following months in a daze until Tooru brought a volleyball over to his house in April, the yellow string on his head matching the one on Hajime’s. He threw himself into it. And he found joy in it, in bumping and passing and setting and swatting at the ball for a poor imitation of the spikes he saw on TV.

But he still loved it a year later when Tooru bumped the ball to him in his backyard, the fall air warm and sticky. “Hey, Hajime.”

“Yeah?” he said as he moved and caught the ball with his arms, pushed it back into the air towards Tooru. He was a lot more accurate now than he had been. It made him smile.

“Has your Dad called you?”

Hajime’s smile slipped into a scowl as he watched Tooru shuffle to the side, crouch, and bump it back. “No.”

He hit the ball back, higher than before. He hadn’t seen his Dad in three months. Not since his birthday when his Dad had taken him out for half the day. Hajime had said less than twenty words to him over six hours. His Mom had encouraged him to try, but he didn’t want to bother. Not when his Dad had made her cry every night for months on end. Not when that new red string sat on his finger, cozy next to the tattered remnants left before from the ones to his mother. Not when his fingers brushed it and he saw pale skin and fiery hair.

“Mom stopped asking me to try.” Probably because the divorce had finally gone through around that time too.

Tooru caught the ball in his hands. “I’m sorry.” Hajime shrugged and rose from his crouch, legs aching. He bit his thumbnail.

Tooru’s eyes didn’t leave him. After a long moment he smiled. “C’mere.” Hajime blinked at his friend, but he trotted over. Tooru grinned and flopped down onto the grass, the ball curled against his hip. “C’mon, take a break.”

Hajime frowned, but he sank into the grass beside of Tooru. His friend leaned over, grabbed his arm, and tugged him the rest of the way down. Hajime hit the grass with a huff. But he didn’t protest.

Their fingers curled together and Tooru raised their arms into the air. The red and green threads tightened and moved around their hands, bound them together from wrist to elbow. Tooru’s pale skin, dotted with freckles and thin brown hair. Hajime’s darker brown skin, marked up with beautiful black swirls from the henna his mother had drawn on him two days before. Matching red patches on their forearms from passing the ball.

“Your Mom’s henna is always so pretty,” Tooru sighed, and Hajime smiled proudly It really was - she made things that filled his skin. Flowers, swirls, dots, rings, leaves. _But Mom hasn’t drawn any on her since he left._

Hajime’s smile slipped. Tooru’s hand squeezed. Hajime glanced over. Brown eyes were already on him, soft and sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s his fault.” It was his Dad’s fault he couldn’t love his Mom enough somehow. She was petty. She was smart. But his Dad had been greedy and cruel - she’d said as his grandmother. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear that, even now.

Tooru and Hajime let their hands fall. Hajime sighed. “I really hate him.”

“It’s okay to.”

“But he’s my-”

“He hurt you and your Mom, and left you. It’s _okay_ ,” Tooru said firmly, his eyes hard on Hajime. He nodded slowly, and Tooru smiled back. His thumb rubbed across Hajime’s knuckles. “So you know what ours mean? But what about the others?”

Hajime knew immediately what he meant. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out someday.” Tooru hummed. He pressed close, face into Hajime’s neck, breath and grass tickling him. His friend was warm. Comfortable. _I don’t want to move. I don’t want to go to school tomorrow._ But Tooru would be with him. And he needed to go so he could graduate. So he could go to Kitagawa Daiichi and play volleyball with Tooru. So he could be _ace_.

“Tooru?”

The brunet hummed. “What position do you want to play?”

Tooru’s fingers curled in his grasp. His lips twitched against Hajime’s neck. “Being a middle blocker or a wing spiker would be cool, but I think I want to be a setter.”

“How come?”

Tooru sat up, a wide grin on his lips as he beamed at Hajime. “Because they’re super cool! The whole team needs them! A setter touches the ball in almost every play. The team _needs_ a setter. They’re super cool!” He beamed at Hajime.

The boy couldn’t help but grin. “You’re a loser _and_ a show-off.”

“Hajime!” Tooru yelled, and he tackled his friend. “Mean! Mean, Hajime!”

Fingers grabbed at Hajime’s side, and the older boy shrieked. “Tooru!”

His friend laughed and continued to tickle him, pinning him down as Hajime squirmed and tried to escape, laughing all the while. And then it stopped. Hajime’s eyes cracked open. Tooru peered at him, face soft. “What position do you want to play, Hajime?”

He grinned. “I wanna be the ace.”

Tooru’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed at Hajime’s hands. “Then I want to set for you! I wanna make you the best you can be! I wanna play volleyball with you in high school! In college! For the national team!”

Hajime grinned, and Tooru smiled back. “Keep dreaming, Tooru.”

“I will, so you’d better work just as hard as me!”

“Of course.”

Tooru nodded, and he sank down onto Hajime’s chest. Their chests pressed together. Tooru buried his face into Hajime's neck. Hajime draped his arms around Tooru’s waist and pressed him closer, tighter. He could feel his heart beat with every shift of his chest, with every breath. “Do you wanna know what the strings mean?”

Hajime stared up at the tree branches above. Sighed quietly. “Yeah. I do want to know.” He was curious. But with how he’d learned of the first two - well, he wasn’t as excited as he could have been. But certainly more willing to learn than he had been when the fallout had first begun.

A soft hand tangled into his hair. “I’ll be with you through it all, no matter what.”

“I know.” He sagged back into the grass. Allowed his eyes to close. “Tooru.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re freaking heavy.”

“Rude!” Tooru swatted at him as he laughed, their bodies shaking with giggles. But after a minute they settled back down. They fell quiet again. Hajime raised his hand and stared at the twisted strings. The gold in them glittered in the sun. Hajime smiled. Tooru kissed his cheek. Hajime groaned, but he couldn’t help but smile even more. _I want things to stay like this forever._

But things didn’t. They grew. Hajime stopped laughing so much - it wasn’t all his Dad’s fault. He just got more serious. But his Mom didn’t push him, and Tooru took it in a stride.

He began to see more strings too. Not just on those he was closest to, but others as well. They accumulated and cluttered his view, and images constantly flashed in his mind, hazy faces with fuzzy features. But all in all, that wasn’t too bad. It was tolerable, and that was what mattered to Hajime. But after a few months he found he could almost ‘turn off’ his sight - all but the strings attached to him, Tooru, his Mom, and the Oikawas would fade, and he’d be left in an uncluttered world, free of the fleeting images and the cacophony of colors. It was a breath of fresh air he hadn’t realized he’d needed.

When he turned twelve and the cherry blossoms started to fall he and Tooru went to Kitagawa Daiichi. There were golden strings over their heads when they snatched up papers to join the volleyball club, when they burst into the gym with grins. Tooru tripped, and the captain laughed hard.

Tooru almost shouted his introductions, his eyes bright and a grin plastered across his face. Hajime’s were more subdued, but he was no less excited. And in that moment, he understood what the yellow strings tethered to their heads meant - important things were coming. The kinds of things that could change and shape their lives.

He saw it when they joined the volleyball team. A day later when his Mom met a man at the grocery store who helped her pick up the box she’d dropped. She went on a few dates with him, but by the time the first semester ended she was alone once more - but her smile didn’t leave. In fact it grew even stronger over that summer break as she drew beautiful henna designs on his and Tooru’s backs and watched them play, basking in their freedom of summer. His Dad didn’t call. Didn’t visit. Hadn’t done so since he was ten. He wasn’t sure he cared. And life moved on.

The orange strings that bound him to his Mom and Tooru’s parents grew stronger, brighter. The meaning came to life, stole into his mind as he watched Mrs. Oikawa tease her brother-in-law, tethered to her with an orange string. _Family connections, deeper than normal._

When he was near the end of his first year at Kitagawa he saw a black cord on one of his teacher’s backs. It drooped to the floor, snaked out of the classroom, out of the school. Hajime didn’t dare follow it. The sight of it made his stomach churn, especially as the string grew thicker, darker, until it became as big as Hajime’s fist, and darker than the ink his Mom drew on their skin with.

Three weeks after the black cord appeared his teacher missed school for a three days. They found him three days later, murdered in his home during a robbery. The new knowledge fell into place, a piece to the puzzle he had slowly started to see the picture of, working blindly the whole time.

Black meant death. The thicker the strings grew, the more likely it was to happen. And that solidified the idea of white being _life_ \- pregnant women with the white strings from belly to heart. The ill too, with white strings on their heads that drifted through the sky, lazy and loose.

When he was in his second year he realized what purple meant too. He sat at his desk, watching the blackboard with dull eyes as the teacher droned on and on, writing English words across the board with her stick of chalk. His eyes drifted down, drawn by a soft hiss to Akemi, the girl who sat beside him, and to her left hand.

His eyes flew wide as a purple string started to form on her pinky finger. It wound along the green one already there, creeping like a vine in those documentaries they watched, super fast so they wouldn’t get bored. The two threads twined together, and he watched, awestruck, as the purple as it dipped down to the floor, moved along the floor, wave-like, and crept back up to a desk in the front, and to Kyoko’s right hand. He glanced back to Akemi. Her eyes were fixed on Kyoko, soft and longing. _Purple: one sided love._

And it all clicked together as he sat in the classroom, staring at that purple string with wonder - it was the first time he’d watched one form too. He spent the rest of the lesson with his eyes outside the window. _How the hell did they get the red string right, but nothing else? Is it just that no one cares?_ But no one else could see them, so he couldn’t exactly ask. And so the strings fell into the back of his mind. Especially when their third year of middle school came.

It wasn’t hard to miss how Tooru started to shrink in on himself. His smiles were still bright, but in the last year they’d become more forced. His cheery voice belied any hint of problem. But Hajime _knew_ Tooru. Knew it was fake. It wasn’t hard to hold him after practice - Tooru always waited on him so they could walk home together, and Hajime made sure to take extra long, even as Tooru complained from his perch on the bench.

“Hajime, you’re so _slow_ ,” his friend grumbled, and Hajime snorted as he slowly laced his shoe. Kindaichi was persistent in lingering - his crush wouldn’t have been obvious if Hajime couldn’t see the purple string that tied them together. He felt sorry the underclassman - but that didn’t mean he wanted to change it. He was tied to _Tooru_ \- and he liked that. But finally Kindaichi left, and Hajime finally stood.

Tooru huffed and smiled, but it was small, forced. “About time! I’m _starving_ . Mom said she got milk bread, and I’ve been _dying_ for it since lunch!”

Hajime turned, and something in his eyes must have caught Tooru’s attention, because his head cocked to the side like a puppy. His brown eyes were wide, confused. His hair, infuriatingly perfect as always, fell into his eyes a little. Hajime wanted to push it back. Longed to pull his friend in and hug him tight and protect him from whatever made him hurt so much. But he didn’t. Instead he rolled his shoulders nervously and spoke, voice soft. “Tooru, is something going on?”

The hands between Tooru’s spread legs went tight. He smiled, brighter this time. It looked physically _painful_. “What do you mean, Hajime? I’m perfectly fine! Everything’s good!”

_“Tooru.”_

His voice was sharper, and this time Tooru’s entire body twitched back. The smile soured, turned dark, and Tooru turned his head to the side. “What?” he huffed, lips pursed.

“Tell me what’s wrong? I’m your friend.” _Your soulmate._ He didn’t have to say it. They both knew it. And Tooru’s right hand drifted to his left. To the little string around his pinky, ingrained in his mind, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Tooru,” he said again, softer this time. “Please. Tell me. You don’t have to hurt alone, you shithead.”

Tooru snorted. “That’s a funny way to get me to talk, calling me names.” But his voice wobbled, and it sounded thicker. Unsure.

Hajime sank onto the bench in front of Tooru and scooted forward until their knees touched. He reached forward, hands hesitant, and he cupped Tooru’s cheeks, still turned away, and pulled Tooru’s face towards him. “You can tell me anything.”

Tooru sniffed. Nodded. Thin, pale hands crept up and curled around Hajime’s wrists. They went tight as a tear trickled out and slipped against Hajime’s hand. “I-” Tooru’s voice cracked weakly, and the brunet abruptly shifted forward.

The hug was awkward - definitely not the easiest they’d had, but with Tooru’s face pressed to his neck and the hands curled on his back, it was familiar. And Hajime pulled his friend close, wrapped him tight in his arms as Tooru sobbed quietly in his arms. His shoulder rapidly grew damp, and with every hitch of Tooru’s body Hajime felt something in him twist a little more. Painfully so. _Why didn’t you say anything?_ It was a thought, but he whispered it too as he ran his fingers down Tooru’s back.

_I love you._

He didn’t say that - couldn’t. Those words came easier at six than they did at fifteen.

And Tooru’s body shuddered, a full-body thing that left him slumped in Hajime’s arms. The sobs faded. The sniffles were on their heels. Slowly his body went slack. But Hajime’s hands didn’t stop as they traced random paths across his friend’s back, erratic. Senseless. On and on until a deep breath and a shaky voice rose up in the quiet.

“I… I wanted to,” Tooru whispered into his shoulder, “But… Every time I try it feels like… I can’t _breathe_ . Because I keep thinking that if you knew I thought these… these _terrible_ things you’d leave me. And H-Hajime, I can’t. I _can’t_ let you go. You…” Tooru’s hands balled up, fisting his shirt.

Every tug, every word made Hajime’s throat a little tighter. Made the burn there and in his eyes harder to ignore. “I’m never going to leave you, dumb- Tooru.”

“I _know_ . I know, but I _don’t_. It’s like… like I know what you do and say, but it all breaks down and disconnects when I get like this.”

Tooru pulled back. His eyes were puffy and red, and his face blotchy. He’d always been an ugly crier by his own definition, but Hajime couldn’t think anything but _beautiful_ as he wiped the tears from Tooru’s cheeks. Those slender, calloused hands returned to his wrist. Held him in place as Tooru closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. The sight of it shouldn’t have warmed Hajime so much. But the warmth only spread as those green and red strings looped around their arm, gossamer threads that bound them together.

“You mean the world to me… and I know I won’t lose you, but…” Tooru mouth worked for a moment more, but when no words came out he shook his head and he turned his face further into Hajime’s right hand.

“You won’t,” Hajime said softly. “You never will.”

A brown eye cracked open and found him. “I know. It’s just hard to remember. It doesn’t help that…”

“What doesn’t help?” Hajime said softly when Tooru lapsed back into silence.

His friend flushed, shame in his eyes. “I don’t like Tobio.” Hajime snorted, and Tooru pulled back with a scowl as he swatted Hajime’s thigh. “I’m being serious!”

“I know,” Hajime smiled, “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, well he doesn’t get it,” Tooru grumbled with a huff. He worried his lip between his teeth, and Hajime gave him a minute, let him collect his thoughts. Tooru spoke soon enough, voice low but loud in the quiet locker room. “I don’t like him because he’s got so much _raw talent_ . I’m… envious. I’ve had to work so hard to get here, to be captain and the starting setter and everything, but… he’s good. And he’s only going to get better. That dumbass first year is a _genius_ , and I’m… nothing.”

Hajime caught Tooru’s face again, turned it towards him. Tooru refused to look, ever the little shit, and Hajime scowled. “Hey. Look at me.” Brown eyes flicked up. The fear in them was clear - and perhaps the first genuine fear Hajime had ever seen. _He’s afraid of losing me. Of losing what we have. Everything he’s worked so hard for._ Hajime smiled.

“You idiot. The only part of you that’s ‘nothing’ is your common sense, dumbass. I know you don’t like him, but you’re still _better_. And even if he is a genius, he also works harder than half the team combined. But he adores you to the moon and back to. So dislike him, yeah, because he’s a threat to your position, but remember he’s a good kid, okay? And use all that shit you’ve got going on in that empty head of yours-”

“Hey!”

“-to keep improving okay?” Hajime stood and dropped his hands from Tooru’s face. He grinned. “After all, we’re supposed to play for the national team together, aren’t we?”

Tooru stared up at him for a long second, tears and snot still on his face, his cheeks and ears still reddened. His eyes watered. His lips stretched into a soft smile. The golden strand that joined them quivered. “Of course.” Hajime held his hand out and Tooru took it, held on tight to him all the way home.

That didn’t end Tooru’s anxiety, but it meant that Hajime woke up to texts from two in the morning. He started turning his phone on so he could wake up and text or call, whatever Tooru wanted and felt comfortable with at the time. And while that exhausted him, it also helped Tooru. Enough that it wasn’t until halfway through the second semester when he had to catch the hand he was used to holding before it hit Tobio.

His hand was cold in Hajime’s. It twitched, erratic. Like he wasn’t actually aware of it. Hajime didn’t have to look down or back to see the new golden string that hung between them, glittering in the dark. He could hear Tooru’s gasps, sharp against the quiet of the night. “We’re almost there, Tooru.” Only a sharp breath came in response, as shaky as Tooru’s legs had been when the rage had faded.

Two more streets became one, three houses became his doorstep, and Hajime unlocked the door with a quick twist of his wrist. “ _Maa_ ,” he called as he shut it and tugged Tooru along, “I’m home! Tooru ‘n I are gonna study!”

“Okay!” she called back from the kitchen, and Hajime was glad she didn’t poke her head out. It would’ve led to far too many questions, and Hajime didn’t want to tackle those. Not until the shaking had stopped and Tooru could _breathe_.

He dumped their bags onto the floor and pulled Tooru down onto his bed, his own back to the wall as Hajime tugged Tooru’s spine to his chest. His body twitched, far beyond the hitches in his breathing. Hands pressed to Tooru’s chest, he could feel Tooru’s heart pound beneath, tripping into a stuttering, staccato beat. Nails dug into Hajime’s legs as Tooru desperately clung to something, anything. “Ha-” he croaked.

Hajime hugged him tighter. “I’m here,” he breathed into Tooru’s neck. “I’m here. You’re okay. It’s okay. He’s okay. It’ll pass. Just try to breathe. Can you feel me?”

Tooru bobbed his head weakly, and Hajime nodded too. “Good. Can you breathe with me? In for seven, hold for five, out for seven. Can you do that?”

“I-” His head jerked for a yes. His nails dug in. Hajime started to breathe, carefully counting as pressed closer so Tooru could feel everything. His more subdued heart. His soft, slow breathing. So he could fool Tooru into thinking he wasn’t absolutely _terrified_.

Hitching gasps filled the room, painfully loud and stuttering. It felt like years passed before there was a gulp of air, and Tooru shuddered once more. But his next breath wasn’t a gasp. It was shallow, but it was normal, and Hajime managed a weak smile. “See?” he whispered, “You’re doing so good. A little more.”

Tooru nodded, and their right hands curled together. His fingers were frigid. _He feels so frail. Like he’ll break apart any second._ But Hajime bit back his doubts, his fears, and spoke softly into the back of Tooru’s neck as his breathing slowly evened out. And finally, _finally_ , his chest rose and fell slowly, almost in time with Hajime. His heart was still quick, but no longer worryingly fast. The cold, tight grip on Hajime’s heart released, and he and Tooru sagged into each other. Silence blanketed them, heavy, but not suffocating. Their fingers laced together.

“I… didn’t mean to,” Tooru finally said after a long while.

“I know.”

A quiet sniffle. A weak laugh. Tooru’s grip tightened. “I… he’s going to hate me. He should.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“I should-”

“No,” he said firmly, “You need to calm down. You can when you’re ready.”

Tooru nodded weakly. His other hand settled overtop Hajime’s hand, still splayed across his heart. Another minute of silence, one that Tooru broke once more. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Of course.”

Tooru turned, shifted and prodded until he was curled against Hajime’s chest, legs thrown over Hajime’s thigh and face nestled into his neck. He clutched one of Hajime’s hands with both of his, still cold and trembling faintly from his panic. He was heavy, and it was awkward, but Hajime still secured him in place with a loose arm and pressed his cheek to Tooru’s forehead.

“Why?” The words were breathed into his neck, and Hajime blinked. “Why do you stay with someone as terrible as me?”

Hajime’s breath caught. _You’re not terrible._ He was anything but. He was brilliant. Kind. Surprisingly shy behind that radiant personality he showed off for everyone. He was in pain. Had been for a while. And that made him lash out, which only made him hurt more.

A quiet sniffle ripped Hajime from his thoughts, and Tooru shifted, pushed back so they could see each other. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and he sniffed, bottom lip wobbling. “Haji… Hajime, don’t… please don’t leave me. Don’t… _please_.”

Hajime’s heart stuttered, and the arm around Tooru tightened. “I won’t.”

_“Why?”_

This time it was Hajime’s breath that faltered as he stared at those bloodshot brown eyes, at that pale face splotched with red. “Because you’re my friend. Because I love you.”

Sniffles turned to full-blown sobs as Tooru clutched at his chest, and Hajime buried his face into that wild brown hair. And on the bed beneath them he watched as the crimson and emerald-colored strings pulsed. As the red grew a little larger, just like it had been for the last six months. “Love you, H-Haji,” Tooru blubbered into his neck.

His heart gave a vicious twist. _I love you so much._

The tears eventually faded. Apologies were given in time. Truly, Hajime was fairly certain that Tobio either hadn’t fully understood what had almost happened, or that he didn’t care. Either way it passed, though for the rest of the year Tooru was tense every time Tobio was near. But he did help him with his serves a handful of times. Graduation preparation swept them up in a storm, a flurry of studying and work after another crushing defeat at the hands of Shiratorizawa Junior High.

Tooru’s war with his anxiety raged on. Hajime’s fight beside him never ceased. He finally confided in his Mom as exams loomed and Tooru was left in tears and tearing at his hair. His Mom took it in a stride, and when that orange thread wrapped around them Hajime bite back tears that burned hot as he hugged her tight. In the break between grades Tooru told his parents, went to a doctor, started taking medication.

And then the day came. The opening ceremony of Aoba Johsai. They weren’t seated close to each other, but Hajime could feel Tooru’s eyes on him throughout the ceremony, could see the golden thread on Tooru that matched his own when he twisted just far enough. The moment it finished they found each other, and Tooru’s hand slipped into his, just for a moment. His smile flickered, showing just how nervous he truly was. And then he plastered that damn fake smile on his face and carried on with a call of “Iwa!” - something he’d picked up doing when they were in public.

They were in different classes - both in college prep, but Tooru in Class 6, while he was in class 5. They grabbed the sheets for the volleyball team that morning, and as soon as the last bell rang they almost sprinted to the locker rooms. They were among the first ones out, and together they burst into the gym and stopped. It was even better than how it had looked online. It smelled of floor cleaner, wood, and, most importantly, _volleyball_. Two men stood inside, one significantly older - clearly the coaches. Overhead there was a little walkway area where people could stand and watch, with over a dozen rows of seating on every side.

Hajime smiled and glanced at Tooru. His mouth hung wide open, but it slowly closed and he turned to grin at Hajime too. Tooru raised his left hand, curled tight into a fist, and grinned. “We made it.”

“Hell yes we did.”

Tooru laughed, and Hajime smiled a little wider as his eyes fell to the strings. Red and green as always. But now there were several golden threads. One that bound them together. Four that led elsewhere, two on each of their fingers. They matched his. He’d touched them earlier, when he’d first noticed them appear that morning. One had shown the face of a young boy with braces and dark, curly hair. The other was a paler boy, his hair a light brown.

The coaches turned around at Tooru’s laugh, and the older one grinned. “So the first of the new ones arrives, huh?”

“Yes, sir!” they chorused, and he nodded.

“Good. You can wait here until the captain gets here.”

His assistant laughed as the pair frantically nodded their heads, and they moved to the wall to watch people trickle in. It wasn’t hard to tell the upperclassmen apart from the underclassmen - they grouped up and talked easily, their voices loud and confident. _We’ll be like them soon._

Fingers brushed across the back of his hand as Tooru moved forward, a determined look on his face, then a sunny smile. Hajime trailed after him. They went straight towards one of the larger groups, and Tooru greeted them warmly. _Liar._ But the group didn’t protest, and instead they greeted he and Tooru warmly. But he couldn’t pay attention solely to their group. There was a lot of noise. One of the first-years was being louder than necessary.

The gold threads on the floor rustled, just loud enough to catch his attention and Hajime followed them across the floor the the doors a few meters away. Traced them up to the pair that stood there, tall and lanky, with a green and red thread between them too. Hajime’s heart jolted as he stared at the pair, too far away to make out any clear details.

He shifted, but a hand curled on his shoulder and he glanced back to Tooru and the group. Several of them were staring at him. “Iwa?” Tooru said, “Do I need to take you to the nurse?”

Hajime scowled and swatted his friend’s hand off. “No, you asshole. I’m fine.”

“Lot to take in, I know,” one of the upperclassmen said with a grin, “Don’t worry, you get used to it quick.” Hajime nodded.

“Alright guys,” someone called and everyone turned towards a young man in a white and teal sports jacket. He grinned and waved. “I’m Ren Akiyama, I’ll be your captain for the year, so if you don’t like that, good luck.”

Laughter rippled through the gym, and his smile broadened. “If you haven’t given me your application papers yet go ahead and hand those in. We’ll set the gym up, and then warm up, and introduce ourselves before we get into drills. Sound good?”

“Yes!”

“Good. Upperclassmen, find yourselves a couple first years and show ‘em what to do.”

The group of upperclassmen Hajime and Tooru turned with grinned and looked at each other, then the pair. The shortest one clapped Tooru on the shoulder. “I’m gonna claim these two!”

“ _Fuchida_ ,” one groaned, “I wanted to traumatize them first!”

“Too bad. Go find someone else. Oh, hey, I’m gonna grab those two real quick okay? We need four to setup the net.” The guy, Fuchida, darted past - and went straight to the pair with the golden strings that still together by the doors.

“That’s Daiki Fuchida, the third-year libero,” Tooru breathed into his ear, “You’d know that if you paid attention.”

“I’d pay attention if there wasn’t something important happening,” he hissed back.

Tooru stilled beside him. “The strings?”

Hajime nodded. “From both of us to the guys Fuchida is talking to. Gold ones.”

Tooru hummed and leaned back, thoughtful for a moment. He grinned and clapped Hajime’s back. “Well come on, let’s go set up those nets!”

They trotted over to Fuchida, and the libero grinned at them as he stepped back and waved at the two behind him. “Hey you two. These guys are gonna help us.”

“I’m Issei Matsukawa, first year in Class 3,” the curly-haired one said, his braces glinting as he offered them a lazy smile.

The other boy was shorter, and his smile was more mischievous, but between the pair they looked like trouble - not the bad kind. _I think._ He wiggled his fingers. “I’m Takahiro Hanamaki. First year too, and stuck with this asshole.”

“ _You’re_ the asshole,” Issei said as he elbowed the brunet, who huffed at him before they both turned and grinned at Tooru and Hajime expectantly.

Tooru threw up the peace sign - _what a loser_ \- and grinned. “Tooru Oikawa! First year in Class 6!”

“Ooo,” Takahiro cooed, “You’re a smarty-pants.”

“Of course,” Tooru grinned back. Takahiro’s smile spread wider, pleased, and Hajime almost found himself almost fixated on his amber eyes as they roamed across Tooru before they landed on him.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he said, “First year too, and in Class 5.”

“Oh Takahiro,” Issei said as he faked a small swoon, “So smart! Do you think they’ll help me with my science homework?”

“No one is gonna help a dumbass like you,” Takahiro teased.

Fuchida snorted and shook his head. “Alright guys, you can chat later, let’s go get those nets.” Issei and Takahiro grinned, but they fell into place behind Fuchida. Hajime and Tooru moved to follow. He hadn’t taken a step when a familiar whisper, louder than usual, made him look down and at his right hand. His steps stuttered.

Four new strands were looped around his pinky, and Hajime watched as they wiggled down to the ground and forwards, creeping along those golden threads towards Issei and Takahiro. A glance to the side and he saw Tooru’s were doing the same. And that Issei and Takahiro had strings doing the same. Gold. Green. _Purple_ . _The potential for one-sided love._

“Hajime?” Tooru peered at him, and he saw Issei, Takahiro, and Fuchida turn back. “You sure you don’t need to go to the nurse?”

“I…” he swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’m good. Sorry.” Fuchida eyed him for a moment before he nodded and started walking again.

Tooru’s hand brushed against his. “Tell me later,” Tooru breathed. Hajime nodded, speechless as he watched those threads finally meet in the middle. Warmth filled his stomach.

And then his stomach gave a brutal twist. _Are we not good enough for each other?_ Another thought stole in, hit him hard.

_Am I going to be like my Dad?_

He shook his head. _No. No, that’s not going to happen._ His hands clenched by his sides. He moved forward. Pushed it back until his mind was solely on the nets that they set up. But he couldn’t erase any of their strings from his view. _Dammit._

Somehow he managed to make it through that practice without struggle, and after that he managed to keep his focus solely on the sport so long as he was moving. Every toss Tooru sent him, every spike he drilled towards the other side of the court, every serve he tried to place as well as Tooru did - it all pulled his thoughts to somewhere safe. Everything else was packaged away, neat and tight and pushed to the back. During class too - college prep was rigorous, and he wasn’t as naturally smart as Tooru, so the hours spent hunched over his books were a relief.

But the thoughts crept in, intrusive and dark. They soured every interaction with Issei and Takahiro, who had been dubbed “Mattsun” and “Makki” by Tooru, with each glance to their hands and the two braids of strings that bound him to them. It crept in every time he watched his Mom move about the house, those tattered red and green threads swaying with every move. Teasing him.

_“I’m fucking Nao.”_

Hajime shuddered and shrank in on himself even further. His head was between his knees, his legs pulled into his chest. Rough fingers dragged through his hair, tugged until his scalp ached. _Why?_ Was Tooru not enough for him? He knew that the strings just meant potential things - hell, the purple that tied he and Tooru to Issei and Takahiro could have come from the other two. _But it could be from me._ And if it was - he’d break Tooru’s heart. He’d snap their strings, and they’d be irreparable. Hajime sucked down a harsh breath and shuddered as he dug his fingers into his scalp.

A quiet sniffle broke the quiet. Tears slipped out and dotted his legs before they rolled down too. Two months. Two months he’d gone and hadn’t told Tooru the truth. He’d told him that there was a gold and green string, yes, and that Issei and Takahiro had their own braid of scarlet and jade. But he hadn’t mentioned the purple. _I’m too scared to. Tooru tells me whenever he’s scared and hurting, but I can’t even tell him this._

“Fuck!” Hajime hissed, and he smacked his bed. _“Fuck!”_ His hand went limp, and then it slowly curled into a fist. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered into his legs and the dark of his room. He didn’t know how to ease the burn and ache in his chest, or how to slow the quick breaths spurned by the panic.

“Why me?” _Because you’re just like Dad._ Identical to the man who had shattered his Mom’s heart and walked out of his life and had never come back.

Hajime’s eyes screwed tight and he bit his tongue. _I wish I could get rid of their strings._ That way he wouldn’t see their smiling faces every time his fingers brushed across the strands. So that he wouldn’t have to see it and know that whatever higher power existed had decided that Tooru just might not be enough for him. Hajime’s body hitched with another quiet sob.

_I could cut them._

The thought sliced through him, and he went still. Clarity, when he was on the verge of shaking himself apart. He didn’t know if it was possible - he’d never tried. Never had any reason to. _But if it means I don’t hurt Tooru…_

Body shaking, Hajime unfurled himself and eased forward on his bed. There was a pair of scissors in his drawer, and he pulled them out with shaking hands and sat back on his bed. His left hand wasn’t as coordinated, and it shook, almost fragile, as he spread the blades. A twitch of his finger tugged Tooru’s braided strand out of the way. Another pushed Issei and Takahiro’s together.

He pinched them between his forefinger. Their faces flashed in his mind, trembling and unclear, dark around the edges. Issei’s face was grief-stricken - _scared_ , totally opposite of his normally upbeat, joking personality. And Takahiro’s bore a frail smile that slowly faded. A sharp breath forced his eyes open. He stared at the glittering strings in his hand. And the golden string that had formed with a silent hiss, tethered to his heart, snug between the oranges, and curling out of his window.

“What am I doing?” he breathed. _I’m making sure I don’t become like Dad._ Hajime bit his tongue harshly. Took a deep breath. Spread the blades wide around the strings.

A jangle of musical notes burst through the silence and Hajime flinched, dropped the scissors as his heart tripped into a faster pace. The teen shook his head and reached over, a faint smile curling his lips as he read Tooru’s name. He answered the call, dropped his voice into a rougher pitch - it would hide the shake well enough if Tooru wasn’t in a good state of mind. “What’s up Tooru?”

_“Hajime?”_

He nearly dropped his phone. Tooru’s voice was clear, sharp. Panicked, but not like it normally was when he called late at night.

_“Hajime, open your fucking window. I’ve been throwing rocks at it for like, five minutes. Open! C’mon, before it rains!”_

“Tooru-”

_“Hajime Iwaizumi if you don’t open it right now I will call your Mom and we’re gonna have one of those ‘come to Jesus’ meetings, so-”_

“I’m coming, just… give me a second.”

_“Good!”_

Hajime ended the call. Dropped his phone. Pressed his hand to his chest and sucked down a breath, a fight to stay calm. He quickly scrubbed his face as another pebble clicked against his window, and he finally rose.

Sure enough Tooru was beneath his window, an Aoba Johsai windbreaker on and his arm pulled back, ready to throw another rock. He dropped his arm and grinned. “Great! Help me in.”

The window was almost a meter off the ground, so Hajime leaned over and held his arm out, strings swaying and glittering in the summer wind, as Tooru took his hand. Thunder rumbled overhead, heavy and loud. A drop of rain splashed onto Hajime’s head.

“Hurry!”

Together they heaved and pushed and pulled, and Tooru rose off the ground. His feet smacked the side of the house and they both froze for a moment before they worked together until Tooru spilled into his room. Hajime shut the window with a click, drew the curtains tight as lightning streaked the sky.

“Good timing, Hajime,” Tooru chirped as he toed his shoes off and fumbled in the dark. A click, and then the room was flooded with light from Hajime’s desk lamp. His friend grinned. And then his smile fell away as he stepped towards Hajime. “Are you okay?”

It felt like his heart skipped another beat, but Hajime nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“I…” Tooru’s face twisted and he raked a hand through his hair, for once imperfect and unevenly flattened. “I felt weird. Like I did when your Dad left. It… was something in here.” He gestured vaguely to his chest and shrugged. “So I came over to check on you.”

“Everything’s fine, idiot. Go home. Go to bed.”

Tooru snorted and shifted away from the window - towards his bed.

“To-”

“Hajime. Why are there scissors on your bed?”

The air in the room felt frigid. The hairs on the back of Hajime’s neck rose as thunder rolled overhead, and lightning flashed through the windows.

“I…”

Rain drummed against the roof, a dull roar that drowned his thoughts, left him shaking as Tooru turned to him. “Are you…?”

_“No.”_

“Then what? What’s _wrong_ , Hajime? Don’t shut me out.” _Don’t shut me out like I did to you._ But that had been years ago, in a silent locker room that felt worlds away.

Hajime’s throat was dry, and he cleared it. Held his hands out, helpless, and the strings pulsed as they swayed with every move. “I… was going to cut them.”

Tooru blinked. Thunder crashed, so loud that they both flinched. A step brought them closer. Tooru caught his hands, his own so much warmer. Broader and longer than Hajime remembered. A far cry from the tiny palms and fingers of their childhood. “The strings?”

A nod.

“Hajime… _why_?”

“Because-” And God, did Hajime _detest_ how his voice wobbled, weak. He was supposed to be _strong_ , and yet there he was, on the verge of tears once more. Green eyes clamped shut. “Because we have purple strings to them. Issei and Takahiro. We’ve had them since the beginning, and… _I’m scared_ , okay?”

He opened his eyes and Tooru stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open, and Hajime barrelled on, even though his chest was tight and it felt like his heart could lurch out at any moment. “I know they mean that it’s just the potential for something, but that’s still too much! What if they turn red? What if they mean that you’re not enough for me? I don’t- I _can’t_ be like him, Tooru, I just-” Hajime broke off with a snarl and jerked his hands away. He hunched in on himself, arms wrapped tight around his body, and he shook his head. _I can’t hurt Tooru like that. I can’t._

Two broad hands grabbed his elbows, and then his face - spun him around, forced him to look. Tooru’s eyes were soft, his expression full of too much to pick apart.

“Hajime,” he breathed, and the teen shivered, eyes burning. “Hajime, oh Hajime…” A stronger shudder rocked him, and Hajime leaned forward into Tooru’s touch, desperate for some sense of stability. Arms encircled him, a tight, warm embrace. “Hajime… it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” he mumbled into a bony shoulder, “I-”

“No,” Tooru said, firmer this time. “It’s okay. You said we both had one, right?” Hajime nodded, and he felt Tooru smile into his hair. “Exactly. That means there’s a chance that they’ll love us, or we’ll love them. And even if it goes red, so what? Plenty of people can be romantic with multiple people and everything turn out okay.” Hajime blinked. Pulled back and squinted at Tooru, incredulous. His friend stared at him, and then a giggle bubbled up. “Oh - oh, Hajime, didn’t you know?”

“No,” he said sourly. “I always thought…”

“I know.” Tooru sobered up, the laughter and smile fading immediately as he pressed warm fingertips to Hajime’s cheek. “But you are _not_ your Dad. You’re Hajime. Beautiful, wonderful, assholish-”

“You’re the asshole.”

“Hush, I’m trying to be nice.”

Hajime snorted, but he nodded. The fingers on his cheek twitched, and Hajime smiled softly. “Thanks.”

Tooru’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Instead his face flushed a deep, pretty red, and he stared at Hajime. The teen blinked. “Did your brain freeze?”

Tooru’s throat worked, and he shook his head, but his eyes never left Hajime’s face. “No… I just… really want to kiss you.”

Heat flooded Hajime’s face. Thoughts short circuited. But the cold he’d felt, the tightness in his chest - all of that was gone. Everything had narrowed down to the flush across Tooru’s cheeks and ears. To how close they were. To the red gossamer threads that cocooned them. “I…”

They said “I love you”. They’d kissed each other on the face. Recently too. But now, somehow, it felt much more _real_. Because of the way Hajime’s heart thrummed in his chest, the rush of blood in his ears drowning out the thunder. Because of the way Tooru’s arm tightened around his waist. Because of the way those deep brown eyes bored into him, as if they could somehow strip him bare and expose everything.

_Fuck it._

Hajime slid one arm around Tooru’s neck and tangled his fingers into that soft brown hair. He stretched up, closed his eyes. His mouth was warm, soft, and it parted slightly beneath his before Tooru’s head twitched to the side and his grip on Hajime’s waist tightened. The fingers on his cheek shifted until his face was cradled, and a thumb played across Hajime’s skin. A breath, sharp. Another kiss. Then another, hungry for more.

Tooru was the one who ended it, and he slumped against Hajime until his forehead was against his shoulder. “I really love you.”

“I know.”

“I’ll love you no matter what. So don’t let these strings scare you. And don’t hide it away anymore.”

Hajime swallowed hard. He nodded. “Fine. I won’t.”

Tooru kissed him again as the power went out, and they giggled against each other’s lips, carefree and easy. A weight off Hajime’s shoulders as he curled up in bed, holding Tooru close as soft “I love yous” fell from sleepy lips.

At practice the next day Hajime went to Issei and Takahiro and asked to work on receives with them. They blinked, confused, but grinned and agreed. And the green and purple strings that bound them almost glowed as they fell into position on either side of the net, Tooru setting for them. After that there was a change in their relationship. Perhaps it was that he was no longer trying to avoid them, but rather to continue building their relationship, but _something_ between them changed.

The four fell into a rhythm easily. They met in the morning, before practice or before school depending on the day, and sleepily greeted each other, though Issei or Takahiro always had a joke to tell, mumbled through slices of toast or muffins or whatever else they were eating at the time. They dragged themselves to class and parted ways at the last possible second, Hajime with kisses pressed to the corners of his lips by Tooru, the other two with a grin and a laugh and a teasing jab at Hajime, who’s cheeks never failed to flush.

They met again for lunch, always in Tooru’s class, and Takahiro stole food from all three of them, leftovers or not, and Tooru whined in protest. But he never made to stop Takahiro, and so he continued, a devious smirk on his lips all the while. After school they met up again, unfailingly. Depending on the day they walked or biked to someone’s house to study, or they strode to the locker room to change together.

Even after practice Takahiro and Issei never failed to have energy, strange considering the constant sleepy look to the latter’s eyes, and how energetic the former could be when he was riled up. Enough energy that they filled the walks home with chatter and jokes, and even the studying sessions that sometimes followed. But it was good. And somewhere along the way from June to January Hajime fell in love. _In love._

He stared at the pair as they shoveled rice into their mouths, starving after the morning practice despite the snacks they’d eaten before school. Takahiro looked up, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and he grinned at Hajime. A piece of rice that clung to his lip fell. Beside him Issei swallowed and immediately started to cough.

 _You’re fucking kidding me._ He had fallen at some point in those months for not one, but _two_ idiots, _and that was on top of the idiot he already had._ “Fuck me,” Hajime breathed, and three shit-eating grins found him.

“When and where?” Issei wheezed before he sucked down water.

“Gladly,” Tooru purred with a wink.

“Sure thing, babe,” Takahiro chirped.

Hajime stared at them for several long seconds before he sighed, leaned forward, and pressed his forehead to the desk. “Can I die already? I’ll be away from you idiots.”

“No!” Tooru whined as he draped himself over Hajime’s back, “You can’t leave me! Mean! What would I do without you, Hajime?”

“Probably die,” Takahiro supplied helpfully. Tooru stuck his tongue out at the teen and huffed as he pulled his bento closer, away from the sneaky chopsticks Issei had snuck over. Brown eyes narrowed at Tooru, but Issei’s arm retracted all the same, and instead he leaned into Takahiro and stole a bite of pork. Hajime just shook his head and sighed softly.

 _I can’t believe this._ But he could. Because he hadn’t fallen in love with two - _three_ idiots. He’d fallen for Tooru’s sunny smiles, the rare genuine ones that Hajime got to glimpse in quiet moments, and how warm his hand was when they reached for each other. He loved Takahiro’s amber eyes and how they took everything in, always giving him away before he cracked a joke, and how his voice softly curled around Hajime’s name off the court. He adored how Issei would slump over their desks during lunch and grab at them until someone started to pet his hair, and how soft it was beneath Hajime’s fingers.

The _idiot_ part was just an unfortunate thing that had been thrown into the mix - though he couldn’t complain much. “But fuck, I’m the only sane one,” he mumbled to himself, and Issei snickered around a mouthful of rice.

“Maybe,” he said, “But we’re _awesome_ , and you’re just a grouchy old man.” Hajime kicked Issei’s shin, and the teen’s eyes went wide with pain as he let out a soft sound and slumped over. “Mean,” he whispered into the desk. His arm flopped up beside him, and slowly it crept across the table until he found Tooru’s wrist. “Pet me.”

“Get someone else to do it,” Tooru said as he swatted Issei’s hand back.

Brown eyes, darker than Tooru’s, slid over to Hajime. They lit up. Hajime’s heart gave a twist. “Haji-”

“No.”

“Aww! C’mon!” Issei whined as his fingers scrabbled at Hajime’s wrist. “Just a little-”

“No.”

“Please!”

“... Fine.” Issei grinned at him, a lazy quirk of his lips that shouldn’t have made Hajime’s heart twist like it did, and he reached over and started to run his fingers through that deep brown, almost-black hair, silk beneath his fingers. Issei sighed happily and wiggled. Takahiro shook his head. “You encourage him too much.”

“I just want him to shut up.”

“Not gonna happen, Iwa dearest,” Tooru trilled as he ruffled his friends hair. Their green and red braid tickled Issei’s face, and the teen’s nose twitched.

Hajime tugged on his black curls. “You need to eat.” Issei whined and pressed his cheek more firmly into the desk. Takahiro and Tooru grinned at them both, and they shook their heads. A warm hand brushed his, and Hajime didn’t even look as he and Tooru laced their fingers together. He smiled a little wider. He glanced outside.

The skies were gray, and the trees were bare, but spring was coming. More changes. More time with the three he’d somehow fallen in love with. He squeezed Tooru’s hand a little tighter as he smiled faintly and flicked Issei’s head until he rose with a grumble. Hajime hid a wider smile behind a bite of rice.

The last months of school passed as though they were on a bullet train - not that Hajime could complain. It meant they could _breathe_ , just for a little while, until the new semester began. In the volleyball club the titles were passed down - Joji Handa as the new captain, Meiji Ohba for vice captain, and  Yoichi Kawate became their new ace. The third-years graduated, and the new year swept in with a storm of cherry blossoms.

It found them standing on the steps of the gym, except this time there were four of them. They exchanged grins and stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, Tooru and Hajime landed starting positions. No one could ignore the undeniable power of Tooru’s serves, or of the care he put into every set. Hajime was less certain about his starting position in the lineup, but the satisfaction he found every time he powered through a block was like no other. It left him _ravenous_ for more.

It also meant that he, Takahiro, Issei, and Tooru stayed late and came early to enough practices that the captain finally gave them the spare key two weeks in with a “Go crazy, but be careful.”

That was a week ago, and the four of them filled the court with the smack of volleyballs. Takahiro, Issei, and Hajime rotated setting for each other  so they could spike. Tooru, the actual setter, was glued to the court rather than the sidelines. His shoes squeaked every so often as he threw the ball up and darted forward to drive another serve over the net.

The trio had received for almost an hour, but Tooru was relentless, and they’d wearied of his serves. They could have left - but Hajime refused to leave without Tooru, and Takahiro and Issei refused to leave without them. The first time he’d noted that it had made his heart flutter. Thankfully that had faded, but it was hard to ignore the heat that threatened to rise every time Issei smiled at him after a successful spike, braces glittering in the light, or when Takahiro ruffled his hair after a halfway decent set.

It made him smash his spikes down that much harder, and after forty minutes of it he landed and grabbed his knees, panting but satisfied at how the ball had smacked the ground. He glanced back at the other two. “Water break?”

They nodded, and Hajime glanced back to Tooru as he landed, almost in time to the sound of his serve slapping the wooden floor. “Tooru!” He glanced over, head cocked to the side. “Get some water!”

Tooru grinned and waved in acknowledgement. “Just a few more, Hajime! Then we can go! I’ve almost got it!”

Hajime narrowed his eyes, but he nodded. “Alright, but don’t go too hard. Watch your knee.”

Tooru stuck his tongue at Hajime, but he made a point to give his knee a little stretch. It had been bothering him for a few days, but he was nothing if not persistent. _At least he goes home and puts ice on it._

Hajime trotted over to bench where the other two sat, Takahiro with his face buried into a towel, Issei in the middle of chugging an entire water bottle, and he grabbed his own. He knew they had to be tired - school was long, and the practice had been rigorous. Hajime’s muscles burned, but it was pleasant, and he rolled his shoulders as he drank.

“I swear to God, Oikawa isn’t human.” Takahiro’s words were muffled in the towel, but he grinned when he pulled his head out. “But it’s impressive to say the least.”

Hajime nodded as another ball hit the ground behind them.

“He’ll be captain for sure,” Issei said after a moment. Something flickered across his face, too quick to read, before it returned to an even expression. “Do you think we’ll get to start?”

Takahiro glanced over, his brows scrunched. He swatted Issei’s shoulder. “Of course we will, dumbass. Those upperclassmen better watch out, ‘cause I’m gonna steal a spot. And who knows…” He glanced at Hajime and waggled his brows with a mischievous grin, “I just might steal our dear Iwa’s title of soon-to-be-”

A heavy thud filled the quiet of the gym, punctured an instant later by a wail that made Hajime’s blood run cold. His water bottle slipped out of his hand as he whirled around and darted over to Tooru.

The brunet was hunched on the ground, forehead pressed to the ground and one leg extended - the one with the bad knee. Hajime curled an arm around Tooru, hands shaking as he eased Tooru onto his left side. His friend whimpered, reached out blindly.

Hajime’s right hand found his left, and they clung tight to each other, Tooru gasping in agony as Issei spoke on the phone. But Hajime didn’t hear a word. All he could hear was Tooru gasp out his name through gritted teeth as they clutched at each other, Hajime breathing soft reassurances into unhearing ears. He only registered other people were there when Mrs. Oikawa pulled him away so that Mr. Oikawa could lift his son and carry him out.

_I should have stopped him._

The thought haunted him the next day as he ate lunch with Takahiro and Issei at the usual cluster of desks, one of them painfully empty. Takahiro settled his hand on Hajime’s. The purple thread that joined them throbbed, almost painful, and his mouth went dry.

But Tooru was back the day after with a heavy-duty brace on his knee and a Grade 1 going on Grade 2 strain on his ACL. A partial tear. They were making him sit out for two weeks, minimum, with strong recommendations to stop altogether. But Tooru batted those away and showed up to practice with a grin, even though he had to sit on the sidelines through practices and practice matches with other teams.

He never complained as he limped from class to class, but Hajime knew. That anxiety had returned full-force with the injury. The thoughts of never being enough, of failing. Of having wasted hours upon hours of hard work, all because he hadn’t listened.

_I should have stopped him._

It broke through his thoughts when Tooru pulled him down for kisses, their books spread out all over his bed, tasting of the mint gum Tooru had started to chew halfway through. When he glanced over during practices and saw Tooru carefully stretching his knee and exercising it, already fighting to build the strength back up. Hajime could barely get Tooru to focus when they were supposed to be studying - something that amused Issei and Takahiro to no end. As proof of that, they wore dumb grins as they watched him smack Tooru with his notebook.

“Focus, dumbass! You might get better, but you’re still gonna fail this test if you don’t _study_. We have one free day to crame as long as we can, so take advantage of it.”

Tooru puffed his cheeks out at Hajime, but he sighed and settled back against the pillows. “Fine, fine…”

Issei barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You two are so in love.”

Tooru turned a grin on Issei, a blindingly brilliant and breathtakingly warm one that made Hajime smile too. “Of course!” he chirped. “I’ve always loved Hajime!”

His cheeks flooded with heat, and Hajime swatted Tooru with his notebook again. “Focus.”

Tooru stuck his tongue out at him as Takahiro leaned forward. “So if you love each other why don’t you call each other boyfriends?”

Hajime looked at Takahiro and stilled. He glanced at Tooru, who had a blank owlish look on his face - one that meant he was deep in thought. After a minute he blinked slowly and shrugged with a loose smile. “I don’t know. I guess it’s because we don’t need that. He’ll always be my best friend, even when we’re dating, so… I guess I just don’t feel the need to call him that.”

Takahiro hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “Makes sense… now, can you explain this English?”

Tooru groaned, but he took the sheet Takahiro held out, and the wing spiker smirked. Hajime shifted closer to Issei and nudged him. “Need any help with something?”

Deep brown eyes slid over, even more weary than usual. But Issei smiled and nodded nevertheless. “Always. Thank God you’re smart.”

“You’re smart too,” Hajime mumbled, cheeks a little too warm for comfort as he pulled out his Biology notebook.

Issei scooted closer and stared at his notes, huge hands spread across as he read through the messy characters Hajime had hurriedly scrawled in there. “You write like, half of what I do, and yet it feels like you understand it better,” Issei muttered, but he smiled as he glanced back to his own notes.

“It’s not for everyone,” Hajime said simply. He leaned over and rummaged in his bag for a moment before he pulled out a thick stack of flashcards and set them in front of Issei, who’s eyes widened. “And it’s a lot of memorization.”

“... _Fuck_.”

Takahiro giggled across from them, but they didn’t look up. Issei just shifted so they faced each other, and they sat knee-to-knee, the cards in Hajime’s hands. One by one they shuffled through them. Takahiro and Tooru’s muted voices broke through the quiet occasionally.

It wasn’t hard to tell when Issei grew frustrated after missing multiple cards in a row - he would tug at his hair and sigh, and a dark look would flash across his face. The sight never failed to make Hajime’s chest twist. So with every one he got right after those Hajime would give him a smile and warm encouragements. Sometimes Issei would smile back, and Hajime’s chest warmed, uncontrollable.

They were halfway through the stack for a second time when Issei’s chin found his hand. Three-quarters through when his eyes began to flutter and his answers came slower. Two from the end when he didn’t even answer, and Hajime glanced up. Issei’s eyes were shut, and his shoulders rose and fell with slow, even breaths.

A warm hand curled around his before he could reach out, and he found Takahiro staring at him, a smile of raw adoration tugging at his lips, glittering in his eyes. “Let him be,” he whispered, “He’s had a lot of late nights lately.”

Hajime nodded as he looked back to Issei, those three pairs of strings looped around his pinky, the one orange one from his heart. Deep circles lay beneath his eyes. He looked a little paler, a little more ragged. And yet he’d woken up early on the one free day they had a week to study of all things rather than sleep in and relax. He pulled his hand back. Takahiro hummed softly and leaned back, and Hajime pulled out his Japanese notebook. He only looked up when his back started to ache, perhaps forty minutes later, and blinked.

At some point Takahiro had crawled over and nudged Issei down so that Issei was on his side between the wall and Takahiro, who held his right hand, their red and green strings wrapped around their arms. On the other side of the bed Tooru had slumped over, his glasses askew and his notebook still balanced on his knees, though his pencil had fallen at some point. Hajime smiled softly and shook his head.

“We could use the break,” he mumbled to himself as he slowly shifted. He pulled books from hands that still loosely grasped them, pencils from beneath limp legs. One by one things left the bed, and then he crawled in too. Tooru stirred a little when Hajime gently pulled him down so he could be comfortable, and then Hajime settled against him, back to Tooru’s warm, solid chest. After a moment of hesitation he drew Tooru’s arm over his waist, linked their fingers together, and watched with tired eyes as their strings wrapped around their hands. His gaze flicked to the two on the other side of the bed. Their soft breaths lulled him, and Hajime yawned quietly.

They’d been working hard - even with Tooru not practicing, he still wore himself out exercising, building strength back up. They stayed up late every night to study, and then woke up early to study or practice more. It was gruelling. _And we’re still in the first semester._

He laughed quietly to himself and shook his head. Stretched his free hand out and followed those purple threads, all four of them, that wound their way across his bed. His fingers brushed across their fingers, Issei’s cooler than Takahiro’s. The threads that bound him to the two lazily looped around his fingers, and Hajime smiled.

_Wait._

His eyes widened and he leaned a little closer as he pinched the strands and pulled them closer. Within the eggplant purple shades lay another, something more vibrant. Something that made his cheeks flood with heat as he stared. A streak of red in both, faint, but there nevertheless. Hajime grinned to himself and let them fall back, allowed his hand to return to brush theirs. _It’s okay._

They didn’t wake up for nearly two hours, finally rising when Hajime’s Mom walked in with a tray full of snacks. The nap made it easier to get through the rest of the day, and even the rest of the week. Easier when Tooru found out he would have to sit out for an extra week before he could return. When Issei’s braces finally came off. When Takahiro had a brutal argument with his mom that left the four of them on a video chat until the early hours of the morning. When Hajime and Tooru were too tired to kiss, and almost too tired to little more than slump against each other and doze.

But it wasn’t until practice two weeks after when Tooru pointed out something that should have been obvious that he realized there was more than a knee injury going on. “Issei is a little off, isn’t he?”

Hajime blinked at Tooru, who stared at him with unblinking wide brown eyes. The other pair to their group were waiting outside - they’d wanted to talk to the coach, though about what Hajime wasn’t sure. “What do you mean?” Hajime said as he tugged his shirt on, voice as low as Tooru’s.

His friend shook his head, bemused. “He looks… sad. It’s not a lot, but sometimes when he’s off the court he’ll look down, and remember yesterday at lunch?”

Hajime blinked. Nodded. They’d been eating lunch like usual, and Tooru had been regaling some story that Hajime had only listened to with half an ear. But Issei had seemed wholly out of it, nudging at his food while he stared out the window. When they’d asked him a question and pulled him back he’d smiled and shaken it off. Hajime had brushed it off too. But obviously Tooru thought more of it.

Hajime sank down onto the bench next to him and leaned close. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s just a problem with not having a starting position, or his grades.”

Hajime bit his lip and nodded slowly. “Well, if it keeps up we can always ask him, but for now-”

“ _Guys_!” Takahiro yelled, “C’mon! Tofu awaits!”

Hajime perked up, and Tooru’s rich laughter filled the locker room as he clapped his friend’s back. “C’mon Iwa, let’s go.” They snatched their bags up and darted out of the locker room as quick as Hajime would allow Tooru to walk. The door banged shut behind them. The excited grin on Hajime’s lips plummeted as his steps stuttered.

 _Black_.

A pitch-colored strand that drifted lazily, stark against the white of the hallway. Green eyes followed it down, straight to an unruly mass of curly black hair that Issei raked back with a hand reddened from a long day of spiking.

“Hajime?” He blinked and glanced at Tooru, his brown eyes wide with concern. “You okay?”

“I… later,” Hajime croaked. Tooru blinked at him, but he nodded, and Hajime shook himself. There was a black string, yes, but it was slender, and when he looked closer he could see the white strand threaded through it. Black strings appeared all the time - hell, he’d had a few himself. _It only represents chance, and probability. If it gets bigger… I’ll figure something out._

He smiled once more. “C’mon guys, let’s go get some food.”

“Can we do takeout?” Issei said, and Tooru pouted. The middle blocker ruffled his hair and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve got a paper due tomorrow, and I haven’t even started yet.”

“ _Issei_ ,” Takahiro groaned, but then he grimaced. “I have a presentation, and I haven’t even started that either.”

Issei grinned, though that wilted when he spotted Hajime’s scowl, and it turned into a pout. “ _Iwaizumi_ ,” he sang softly, “Don’t _Mom_ me now, okay?”

“You two need it,” he grumbled as he brushed past the two of them. Takahiro and Issei’s laughter filled the hallway as they fell into step beside him.

Fingers brushed his palm, and he didn’t have to think twice about slipping his hand into Tooru’s and squeezing it tight. The walk to Hajime’s favorite tofu place was quick, and they ordered. They were on their way in thirty minutes, bags of delicious-smelling food clutched in their hands.

They split apart at their usual street, and Takahiro and Issei began their thirty-minute walk home. Tooru and Hajime didn’t release each other. They just held hands tightly, quietly. It almost surprised Hajime that his friend didn’t break the silence, but Tooru did have a knack for knowing when he needed to stay quiet. He waited until they got to Hajime’s house.

They both called out a greeting to his Mom, who wrapped them into tight hugs with soft arms covered in fading henna and kissed their cheeks, and then trooped up to Hajime’s room. Bags ended up on the floor, and silence grew heavier.

Hajime found Tooru’s hand again and tugged him down onto the bed where they laid together, side by side, hands between them. There were no stars above them that would glow in the dark. They were older, bigger, and sometimes struggled to fit on the same bed. But it felt like they were kids again, and he could almost see those stars from another room when he closed his eyes, glowing in the night as Tooru pointed them out with tiny hands, proud of how he’d arranged them into constellations with the help of his dad.

“Hajime?” Tooru said softly.

Green eyes opened. White ceiling. His smile faded, softer than before. “Sorry. Thinking.”

“I know. But what happened earlier? At the gym?”

Hajime didn’t respond immediately - instead he worried his lip for a long moment, collecting his thoughts. He’d told Tooru about people with black strings before - but this was Issei. A friend, not a stranger, or even a classmate. It was someone Hajime and Tooru _loved_. He sighed softly. “Issei had a black string.”

One second. Two. Tooru jolted up with a gasp, and Hajime right behind him, arms encircling Tooru as he made to leap off the bed. “Hajime!” the teen hissed, “Let me _go_ ! We have to talk to him- tell him! _Hajime_ -”

 _“Tooru.”_ The struggles slowed, then stopped, but Tooru remained tense, shaking slightly.

“Why?” he breathed, “Why didn’t you _do_ something?”

“Because it was thin. People get those all the time, remember? It’s just chance.”

Tooru sucked down a breath as his body rippled. The tension left with it, and Tooru sagged back into him. “So he’s not going to die?”

“No,” Hajime said softly, “I don’t think so. But if it gets bigger I’ll tell you.”

“And him?” He leaned forward and nodded into Tooru’s neck. His friend let out a shaky sigh. “Okay. Okay… I’m sorry. Just-”

“I know. You love him too.” Tooru nodded, wordless.. Hajime smiled softly and kissed the hollow of his neck. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of that.”

Tooru twisted in his arms so they could see each other, noses a breath apart. “Will we tell them if it gets worse?”

“We will.”

“Promise?” Tooru whispered.

“Promise.”

He leaned in and kissed Tooru, gentle and warm. A slender hand curled into his hair as they kissed, slow moves of their mouths and quiet sighs. It wasn’t long before Tooru turned and broke away for a moment to push him down, but he was back on him in an instead. There were hands in his hair, tugging just enough to verge on painful, and warmed cheeks as Tooru licked his way into Hajime’s mouth. His hands settled on Tooru’s waist, held on tight and pulled him closer.

“I love you,” Tooru rasped between kisses as they sucked down breaths. _“I love you.”_ Urgent. Warm.

He reached up and caught Tooru’s face before he could swoop back in for another kiss, and brown eyes blinked at him, owlish. “I love you too.” Those sweet lips curled into a fond smile before Tooru leaned back in. Hajime wrapped his arms around him and kissed him desperately, black and white strings twirling behind eyes shut tight. _I love you so much._

The feeling of his lips stayed with Hajime long after Tooru went home. Through dinner, where his Mom chattered about a nice woman she’d been talking with at work and wanted to get dinner with. Even into the next day, when Tooru came back to practice with a brilliant smile and a lighter brace, and a tight hug for Takahiro and Issei too.

With Tooru back on the court there was another level of energy on the court that the team had been lacking. It also meant that the girls flocked back and hung around on the upstairs area, watching and cheering with every set and serve he made. Their captain, Handa, teased Tooru, but the setter just laughed it off and continued to work. He was more cautious though, and he actually listened to Hajime and the others when they told him to stop - sometimes even without their urging.

It took a weight off Hajime’s chest, just one of many with his mind pulled in a thousand different places at once. On practices, refining his spikes and receives with every day that passed. On the exams that loomed over them before summer break, daunting and harder than before. They carried more weight, determined even more the course their futures could take. And he couldn’t afford to fail. And then on Issei, on that black string.

As summer swept them up the string grew bigger, but just a little, so slow too that he didn’t feel as concerned as he could have. Only the thread grew close to the width of his hand would he need to worry. The fear was there, but he and Tooru were careful with Issei, watching him closely. Exams hit hard, but they scraped through and made it to summer break, and it found them neck-deep in rigorous practices. But Hajime felt _alive_ during them, with the squeak of shoes on the court, the thump of volleyballs hitting arms and the floor, the heavy thuds of bodies diving for receives.

But the days off were even better, and Hajime took full advantage of them. The four second years were sprawled out on the cool wooden floor and furniture of his living room, the fan spinning in lazy circles overhead. _Godzilla_ played on the TV, and a tub of ice cream and a container of mochi ice cream passed from hand to hand.

“Dude,” Takahiro said around a mouthful of green tea mochi, “This is so funny.” Hajime grinned and hummed around a mouthful of vanilla ice cream.

“Probably because it looks like a total B-movie,” Tooru grinned, even when Hajime shot a half-assed glare at him.

“True,” Takahiro drawled. Issei patted his leg, and he passed the container of mochi down to his friend.

Issei smiled softly and hugged it close as he carefully looked at what remained before he pulled out two or three. Brown eyes flicked to Hajime. “Want some?” He shook his head, and the container ended up with Tooru.

“This is not the smartest way to spend a day off,” Takahiro mused idly as he tugged Tooru’s cookie dough ice cream away, “But fuck if it isn’t the best.” Several snorts echoed that, and he grinned as he slung a thin, muscular leg over Hajime’s lap. The move made his cheeks heat, so he stuffed a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and tried to focus on the destruction of the city.

It _was_ a good way to spend the day off. Their muscles ached after a long week of practicing for hours on end, and they deserved the break. Tooru had an ice pack on his knee, and Issei had one on his shoulder - combating the heat and their aches. His Mom certainly hadn’t objected to them lounging about. She had a date anyways with the sweet coworker, the sweet woman with the short black bobbed hair, and Hajime was happy to see her go. The tattered strings on her finger would always remain, but the new red one that had formed was a relief to see. _She deserves to be happy._ Just like they were, comfortable and cozy, lounged together.

His hand found Tooru’s and their fingers loosely laced together. The simple touch brought a smile to Hajime’s face, and he glanced to the side. Tooru was engrossed, too much to notice the smudge of ice cream on the corner of his lip. It matched the one on Takahiro’s nose, and the bits of mochi on Issei’s lips. Warmth curled in Hajime’s chest and he curled one hand over Takahiro’s ankle. _These idiots really make me happy._ Even with Issei and Takahiro’s dumb jokes, and with Tooru’s frustratingly false persona to the rest of the world, he couldn’t help but love them dearly. Enough that it kept him awake at night, stroking their strings with idle fingers and smiling as sharp images appeared.

“What’re you smiling at, Hajime?”

He blinked and glanced at Takahiro, who stared at him with a smile of his own. Issei’s eyes were on him too, and he could feel Tooru’s stare. Hajime shrugged. “I’m just glad that you idiots are finally quiet. This is a lot better than your dumb jokes.”

Issei gasped and clutched at his chest, mock hurt on his face. “Hajime Iwaizumi! We are but simple farmers tending to our memes! If the crops are bountiful, then wouldn’t it be wrong to not share them?”

“He’s right,” Takahiro cried as he clutched the tub of ice cream closer. “We’re just doing our civic duty, sharing these lovely things with you!”

Hajime stared at them, one eyebrow raised. “At three in the morning?”

Issei and Takahiro grinned at each other and nodded. “Of course.”

Hajime sighed. Closed his eyes. He started to rise, but two pairs of hands dragged him back down as all three of his friends burst into laughter. “We’ll be good, Hajime!” Takahiro giggled, “So stay! Watch your movie!”

Hajime grunted, but he didn’t swat those hands away. Instead he caught one of Takahiro’s and pulled the spiker close until their faces were painfully close. Amber eyes went wide, and that glittering smile dropped as pink dusted his cheeks. He was almost in Hajime’s lap, and Hajime’s hands ached to pull him closer. To wrap his arms tight around Takahiro and pull him in and press sweet kisses all across his face. But instead he smiled softly, chest burning. “You’d better be.”

Takahiro’s mouth moved, but no words emerged, and he nodded. Hajime barked out a laugh and let his friend go, and Takahiro sank back into the corner of the couch, his cheeks still a pretty pink, his knees pulled into his chest. His lips pushed out in a pout and he turned his head away like a petulant child. _“Mean.”_

“You deserve it.” Takahiro huffed at him, but he still smiled as he looked back to the movie.

Hajime made to do the same, but his eyes froze. Drifted back to Takahiro’s hand. The purple string that led back to him rippled, pulsed, as red slowly bloomed. It crept down the thread, faster and faster until it raced along, devouring the purple as it drew closer and closer to Hajime. His own red met it halfway, and when the two ripples of crimson came together he couldn’t help but shiver as heat filled his chest. His eyes closed tight.

Fingers curled beneath his chin, pulled him close. “Everything okay?” Tooru whispered.

He nodded. Tried to find his words, his mouth dry. _He loves me. Takahiro loves me._ Elation twisted his gut, bubbled up and threatened to steal his breath away. _“Red,”_ he choked, and Tooru’s breath caught. But when those soft lips pressed to his cheek they were quirked up in a smile, and Tooru squeezed his hand tighter. They pressed closer. Hajime’s fingers stroked that newly shifted thread.

He smiled so long, so hard that his cheeks ached, but he couldn’t care. Not with the way Takahiro’s cheeks went pink every time they spoke after, or how he stuttered, subtle, but there nonetheless. And every little stammer and glimpse of pink and stare that lasted half a beat too long left Hajime’s chest tight and throbbing, aching pleasantly. He couldn’t help but settle his legs over Takahiro’s lap after he put the next movie in, _War of the Worlds_.

Tooru didn’t say a word, just grinned and tangled his fingers into Hajime’s hair. Despite the fact that it _was_ one of Tooru’s dumb alien movies it was actually good, and Hajime was almost disappointed when it ended. He rose and stretched, and glanced back at the others. “Break?”

Nods all around, and Issei slunk around Hajime with a grin. “Dibs on the bathroom.”

“Don’t fall in!” Takahiro called after him with a shit-eating grin as he and Tooru collected the containers of ice cream and mochi - all of them were empty. Hajime just shook his head and watched them disappear into the kitchen. He brought his right hand to his face, staring closely. Three braids, each soft and glossy in the early afternoon light. Three green. Two red. One purple, with beautiful streaks of scarlet within.

_How long until Issei’s turns red too? Until the one tying Tooru to them turn red?_

He curled his hand into a loose fist and pressed it to his chest, where the orange strings spilled from his chest. The warmth that filled him snatched his breath away, and his eyes fluttered shut as a small smile curled his lips. The scissors incident seemed eons, realities away, the fear that had punctured his gut a far cry from the rose-colored adoration that twisted his heart into knot after knot. “God,” he breathed quietly.

He shook his head, let his hand fall, and followed the sound of Takahiro and Tooru’s voices. The sight inside stilled his feet, made his chest bubble. Takahiro and Tooru leaned against the counter, their backs to Hajime but their hands visible - both of them couldn’t talk without waving their arms into faces.

The jade and violet ties that bound them together were on full display, woven over shoulders and curled around shins to droop by ankles before rising once more. Only the violet string rippled, and a wave of cardinal red cascaded through, chasing the violet until the two sides met in the middle, on the back of Takahiro’s knee.

A deep breath made them turn, wearing brilliant matching smiles. Takahiro’s cheek went from a faint pink to something bordering on red, the flush filling his cheeks and painting his ears, his neck. “H-Hajime!” he chirped, and Tooru laughed.

Hajime smiled too. “You idiots.”

“What’d I miss?” Issei said as he stuck his head beside Hajime’s.

Somehow he managed not to flinch or headbut his friend. Instead he just smiled and flicked Issei’s cheek. “Everything, as usual.”

Issei snorted and slipped back him. Green eyes trailed up him and settled on that twine of black and white over his head. _Is it bigger than before?_ The thought chilled his stomach. _I’ll give it another week._

Warm hands settled on his hips, held him tight as Tooru pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Wake up, Hajime,” he teased, “Can’t sleep standing up.”

“Says the one who fell asleep in the middle of practice one day.”

Tooru squeaked as Issei and Takahiro’s laugher filled the kitchen, sweet and soft, low and rumbling. Hajime’s chest twisted once more. _I love you all so much._ Loved the way Issei’s lips curled up into a tired smirk. How Takahiro’s eyes scrunched as he cupped a hand over his mouth to hide his smile and muffle his giggles. Adored how Tooru’s light brown eyes glittered as he stared at their friends, and then at Hajime, absolutely breathtaking. He couldn’t help but lean close and hug him tight.

 _“Red,”_ he breathed once more, and Tooru’s giggles bloomed into full-blown laughter, contagious. It was a long while before they stopped laughing.

The rest of summer passed, a whirlwind of heat and practices, of dozing and movies with the other three, of cooking with his Mom and lying in bed, studying those vibrant colors wrapped around his finger. They were irresistible to study, just like he couldn’t resist pressing close to Takahiro when they were together just to see him blush. He couldn’t help but smile every time Tooru flirted, subtle, but just enough that Takahiro’s face would go blank with surprise before he would flush again.

But above all he couldn’t help but focus on Issei. On the smiles that seemed strained, only to melt into something else, something genuine. It was like Tooru, but quieter. Harder to read. But he wanted nothing more than to do that. Well, that and kiss him, and coax out smiles, and tell him how beautiful he was.

 _God, Tooru has really rubbed off on me._ Hajime shook his head and sighed as he slipped out of the locker room, full of chatter after another successful practice match. Tooru had been engulfed by the star-struck first years and proud third-years, but their friends had already slipped out. Whether that was to escape the noise or the angry bark of Kentarou, an abrasive first-year wing spiker with a red string to Shigeru, he wasn’t sure. Issei’s expression had been impossible to read, but dark, and Takahiro had stared after him for a moment before he’d chased after. Something about it all made Hajime’s heart ache.

It wasn’t hard to find them - their strings led him there, but he walked slowly, carefully, and watched with idle fascination as he watched a golden strand form and snake along and through the shades of lilac and jade. _Why is one forming now? What’s going to happen?_

His feet stilled in place and he held still, abruptly aware of every breath, of every slow thud of his heart, of the rush of blood in his ears. Thunder rumbled, muted so far inside. His chest twisted, uncomfortable and tight. He swallowed hard.

Hajime’s hand slowly rose, and he pressed it to that golden thread, flickering and warm. Issei’s face bloomed before him, warm and light, and Hajime’s lips twitched up, but it died instantly. Deep brown eyes stared at him, dark and blank - they didn’t reach the thin smile that wobbled. Darkness crept in, sucking at the edges, as Issei’s face crumpled, eyes bright with tears. The image shattered apart and Hajime staggered back, breathing ragged and his heart pounding against his ribs.

_Issei._

Hajime lurched forward and followed the strings, steps quicker, quiet. His steps slowed when he caught the sound of voices, and Hajime peeked around the corner, chest tight with anxiety that threatened to choke him. Issei and Takahiro stood down the hall, square in the middle.

“ _Issei_ ,” Takahiro said  softly, and he reached out for his teammate’s hand. Red and green looped around their hands, their glow pulsing as Takahiro squeezed tight. “What’s wrong? You look… You’ve been acting weird for days.”

Hajime’s breath caught in the silence that stretched on, every second dragging on and on and on, endless.

“I’ve just had a lot of stress,” Issei said finally with a crooked smile. “Tests, biology, practice. I haven’t been sleeping a lot, so I’m tired, y’know?”

Takahiro stared at him for a long moment before he nodded and smiled too. “Yeah. I know.”

Silence slipped back in, but after a moment Issei reached up and cupped Takahiro’s face. Even in the dim light Hajime could see his cheeks flare bright red and his lips form words that never came to be. “Makki… Takahiro… I really do love you.”

“I-” Takahiro squeaked.

Issei laughed softly. His hand slipped down. “Sorry, I just-”

“No!” Takahiro grabbed Issei’s other hand and pulled it back, pressed both of those large, slender hands to his face and leaned into them with a smile. Issei stared at him, and then a tiny smile curled his lips. He leaned in, nose their mouths together. One of them made a happy sound.

Shame flooded Hajime as heat filled his cheeks. _I shouldn’t be watching this. I-_ His eyes fell onto the gold, brighter than any other string. He followed it to Issei’s left hand. Continued upward. Everything shuddered to a halt.

_Black._

No longer a string, but a cable that swayed from the top of Issei’s head, only the thinnest sliver of white still there. Hajime’s chest constricted and he staggered back, then threw himself against the wall and sank down, trembling, as he pressed his hands over his face and stared blindly through the cracks.

_He’s going to die. Issei is going to die. Black for death. Connects you to who or what will cause it. If there’s no one else, if it just connects him to nothing-_

Hajime choked down a sound, tried to smother his panicked gasps. The words he’d always whispered to Tooru were gone. Something about breathing. About things being alright. But _nothing_ was _alright._ Because Issei was going to die, _wanted to die_ , and Hajime couldn’t _breathe._ _I have to. I_ have _to._

He gulped down air, frantic, and forced himself to hold it for five seconds, and then release. Again, slower this time. And again. The fifth breath was easier, and at the tenth he could finally see and hear again, the world no longer a blur. At the thirteenth he managed to rise, body shaking, and he listened once more.

“-see you tomorrow, Issei.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Footsteps, just one pair. Hajime pressed harder against the wall and waited. Issei turned the corner a second later. Didn’t even look. His face was blank carefully, painfully so, and Hajime’s heart stuttered once more. Issei made it halfway down the hall before his brain kicked in and he started to move. “Issei.” The middle blocker didn’t turn around. Hajime sped up.

_“Issei.”_

Still he didn’t turn as he hitched his bag up higher and slipped out the double doors into the storm. Hajime darted forward, slammed into the door, and stumbled outside. The rain roared overhead on the metal awning, and lights glimmered off the puddles forming on the concrete, in the grass. Issei stood at the edge, just close enough for water to splatter on his gray sweats. “Issei!”

He finally turned, and Hajime’s heart twisted, cruel and cold. Deep brown eyes, still blank and unfeeling, that couldn’t reach the faint tug of a smile. “Yo, Iwa,” he said, almost quiet enough for the rain and thunder to swallow his voice. “What’s shakin’, hot stuff?”

Hajime somehow found a smile and pushed it up as he stepped closer, mind spinning. “Not much, but I’m glad I caught you before you left.” Caterpillar eyebrows rose, and his head fell to the side, questioning. “I didn’t get to tell you how well you did today.”

Issei’s lips formed a small ‘O’ of surprise, and Hajime’s eyes flicked up. The black wavered, and then slowly a little bit melted away. Hajime dropped his gaze and continued, far beyond thankful that his voice didn’t shake and betray him. “You really helped us in that practice match. Without some of those blocks you had we would’ve lost for sure.”

Issei tangled slender tan fingers into his dark curls and tugged. “Nah, you would’ve-”

“ _No_ , Issei.” Those deep brown eyes found him again, and Hajime plowed on. “You’re a fantastic blocker - I’m sure you’ll get to start soon. You’ve worked hard as hell - almost as hard as shithead back in there.”

Issei snorted and clamped a hand over his mouth, and Hajime smiled too, more relieved than anything else as he chanced a glance and watched the black cord shrivel a little more. But words wouldn’t come. _What do I do? What do I say? What can help save him? What the hell do I_ do _?_ Lightning streaked across the sky, and with it an idea. Hajime stepped in closer.

“Can I hug you?”

Those thick eyebrows rose even higher as those constantly sleepy eyes widened. “Um… why?”

Hajime’s face soured and he scowled. “Take it or lose it,and it’s a one-time offer you ass.”

“That’s _meme lord_ to you,” Issei teased, but he stepped in and and Hajime wrapped him up into a tight hug.

He was warm, almost hot to the touch, but his fingers were cold enough that Hajime could feel the chill through his shirt. His arms were long, and they looped around Hajime to settle on his back, his large hands spread wide. Hajime was just tall enough to set his chin on Issei’s shoulder, pointedly ignoring how he had to go onto his tiptoes. He closed his eyes, pressed his hands into Issei’s muscular back. _He smells good._ Like spice beneath the sweat, and a little sweet. Hajime pressed closer, squeezed his friend tighter.

The hands on his back twitched, and slowly they curled into fists that bunched up the fabric of his shirt. A shaky inhale made his eyes crack open. He pulled back, and his heart stuttered. Issei’s eyes were shining, and his cool expression was on the verge of collapse.

Hajime looked up above him and his heart leapt. The dark cord had shrunk, half its former size, and Hajime burrowed back in, squeezed his friend tighter. “You’re not alone, y’know,” he murmured into Issei’s shoulder. “I’m right here. So are Takahiro ‘n Tooru. You can lean on us too.”

Another twitch of those fingers, and Issei sniffed, burrowed into his spiky hair. “I know…” he breathed. “It’s been… there’s a lot going on. I...” Issei’s lips moved in his hair, but all that came out was a shaky sigh.

Hajime nodded. “You don’t have to tell me now. Or ever. But I’m here, okay? Lemme know when things get bad. I’m not gonna judge you.”

“Okay.” The word was soft, whispered into his scalp, and Hajime smiled.

“Good.”

They stood there for a long minute, the rain and thunder filling the silence, drowning it out in the cascade. Those large hands slid down and groped his ass. “Much firm, such wow, so gay, very yes,” he giggled, and Hajime snorted as Issei’s arms fell away and they shifted apart.

“You do realize _you’re_ the one who just had your tongue in Takahiro’s mouth? Talk about gay, huh?”

Issei’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink that made Hajime’s heart beat faster than it should’ve, but the other teen smiled anyways. “So you saw that, huh?”

“And now I’m going to have to rinse my eyes with Bleach.”

Issei cracked a lopsided grin. “Don’t miss any spots, dumbass.”

Hajime swatted Issei’s arm, but he didn’t pull it away. Instead he wrapped his hand around Issei’s bicep and squeezed, the smile gone. “Seriously. You can call me.”

For a split second Issei looked like he was about to _shatter_. His lips parted. His eyes darted around. But then they closed and his eyes crinkled with another smile. But the black had shrunk down more, no more than a fourth of the size it had been.“Yeah, sure.”

“About anything.”

“Including my Bio and math homework?”

“ _Especially_ your Bio and math homework.”

Issei grinned and nodded. He reached up and ruffled Hajime’s hair. “Fine, fine. You’re such a mom, Iwaizumi. I’ll be a good little duckling and go home and do my homework, okay? I’ll even text you the answers.”

“Damn right you better.” Issei grinned and wiggled his fingers, and then he stepped out into the easing rain to fetch his bike and ride home.

Hajime watched him go, and he slowly released a shuddering breath. His hands found his elbows and squeezed tight as he hugged himself, desperate for some sense of security. _Oh my God._ Lightning streaked the air, and he dragged his fingers through his hair. _I have to tell Tooru. Takahiro. Even Issei. They need-_

A hand curled over his shoulder and he twitched. “Hajime?” Tooru said softly, and he nodded. The grip tightened. “Are you okay? You’re crying.”

Shakily, he pressed his fingers to his cheeks as he sniffed. Fat tears fell onto his fingers and he stared at them for a moment. “I… Issei. His… it was so big Tooru. So _big…_ ”

One second. Two. Lightning flashed, further off.

 _“What?”_ Tooru shrieked, and he jerked Hajime around. His brown eyes were wild and wide, an expression that threw Hajime right back to Kitagawa Daiichi, back to when Toor had nearly struck Tobio. Except this time his face crumpled as tears welled up, and Tooru thumped his chest with a loose fist. “ _Hajime_ , you let him _go_?”

He shook his head, grabbed at the hand clutching at the patch of shirt over his heart. They were both crying, Tooru’s face streaked with snot and tears, and it made Hajime shake, made everything flood out. “No, _no_ , I didn’t. I stopped him, talked to him. Tooru, it _shrank_. It’s not happening tonight. Issei… he’s not okay Tooru, he’s not-”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” They both froze, and slowly, oh so slowly, they both turned. Takahiro stood a few steps behind them, one hand on the strap of his back, the other on his umbrella. Both were shaking. He stepped closer, eyes wide, confused. “What’s wrong with Issei?”

Hajime’s mouth fell open and he and Tooru scrambled for something, _anything_. But it all fell flat as Takahiro crept closer. “What are you talking about?” he whispered.

Hajime closed the rest of the distance, held his hands out helplessly in front of him. “It’s… a lot to explain.”

“Explain. Now.” The words should have been harsh, but Takahiro’s voice shook and his lips wobbled, and tears filled his eyes. Hajime glanced around. A hand settled on the base of his spine, warm and reassuring. It made him realize that his breathing was too sharp, too fast, and that his heart heavy against his ribs.

“You know the red string of fate?” Takahiro nodded, baffled, and Hajime rushed on. “It’s crazy, I know, but it’s real. The red string - it’s _real_ . And it’s not the only one. There are others, too many to explain, but there’s a black string. It means death, and Matsukawa - Issei… he has one. He’s _had_ one, and-”

His voice trailed off as Takahiro wrapped his arms tight around himself, shaking and laughing, a grin on his lips. “Funny! Fucking riot! Hajime, you’re such a-”

_“Takahiro.”_

The wing spiker’s laughter faded as he looked to Tooru, and then to Hajime. He studied their faces for a moment. His face slowly emptied. “You’re… being serious.” They both nodded. “Can… both of you…?”

“No,” Tooru said softly with a shake of his head, “Only Hajime. But all his life. I wouldn’t lie about this. _We_ would _never_ lie to you.”

“What about that time when Hajime drank my-”

“Hush, two totally different circumstances.”

Takahiro grinned, but it was weak, faltering. And then it slipped away as his eyes slowly widened. “Wait… if you’re being serious… and Issei had a black one…” He lunged forward and grabbed Hajime. _“Why didn’t you stop him? Why-”_

He clapped a hand over Takahiro’s mouth, and the teen fell silent, though he glared at Hajime, the message clear. _Speak._ Hajime spoke quickly, thankful that his voice managed to be even. “Some strings get bigger when things are more likely to happen - some of them only get as wide as my finger, but the black one can get huge. Like… fuck. Issei’s was so big, and I… I somehow managed to get it to shrink.”

“Which means he’s safe?” Takahiro whispered, voice shaky.

Hajime’s mouth opened. Closed. “Maybe. It’s small tonight, but... I think it’s because he was going to kill himself.” The words were sour in his mouth, and Hajime closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

When he opened them again Takahiro was crying freely, his cheeks red as his dragged the sleeve of his jacket across his face. “You’re… you’re sure?” Hajime nodded. Takahiro’s breath shuddered, and he wrapped his arms around himself for a moment. His amber eyes flicked up and stared into Tooru, then Hajime. “What do we _do_?”

“We let him know we’re here for him,” Tooru said after a moment. “We do that, and if it gets bad again… we go to a teacher.”

Takahiro sniffled and nodded, and Hajime dipped his head. “I’m _so sorry_ I didn’t tell you… I didn’t want you to worry, and I was really hoping it’d be something dumb, like him eating something with peanuts.”

Takahiro snorted, and a weak smile made its way back to his lips. “That would be like him… But it’s okay. I… understand. It hurts like fuck, but I get it. Thank you for telling me, and…” He scrubbed his face again and sucked down a deep, trembling breath. He stepped in, and warm arms encircled Hajime and Tooru as their bodies pressed close together, Takahiro’s head between them. Hajime glanced over his hair and stared at Tooru, who looked equally surprised, but then he smiled softly. Hajime slowly raised his arm and hugged Takahiro back as his friend shivered against him.

“I really love you guys, y’know?” Takahiro whispered, and then a laugh bubbled up. “God, that’s so gay.”

“Trust me,” Hajime said with a grin as he squeezed Takahiro tighter, “ _I know_.”

Takahiro went still against him, and then he slowly pulled back. Mortification was painted across his face, his amber eyes wide as his face flooded with scarlet. “Y-y-you know?”

Hajime smiled softly. Takahiro groaned and burrowed his face into his hands. “Well,” he mumbled, but there was a lilt to his voice, a good one, “I guess the cat’s alive.”

Both Tooru and Hajime paused. “Makki,” Tooru said slowly, “Did you just make a Schrodinger’s cat reference?”

He peeked out from the cover of his hands and grinned at them cheekily. “Can’t be all memes all the time, asshole.”

Tooru grinned and shook his head. “Of course not. Though…” The way his voice dropped make all three of them sober up, and they looked to each other. “We have to help Mattsun. Any way we can.”

Takahiro and Hajime nodded resolutely, and then Takahiro stepped away. “I’m gonna go home, okay? I’ll call Mattsun when I get there, see if he wants to spend the night and study.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tooru said softly, and he reached out to squeeze Makki’s bicep for a moment. Takahiro smiled at him and then stepped out into the rain. The pair stood there for a long moment, watching as he ran to his bike and pedaled away.

Hajime’s hand found Tooru’s. For once his hand was cold, though neither of them pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tooru murmured with a squeeze to Hajime’s fingers. “I understand. Let’s go home.”

They didn’t say a word as they pedaled home, but they hugged each other goodbye when they reached Hajime’s house, and he trooped up to his front porch alone. He left the bike in the garage and stepped inside and stood there for a moment, soaked to the bone and frigid with the AC running.

His school bag was dry though, and he dropped that on the floor as he slowly shed his jacket and pulled off his shoes. He felt - _complicated_ was the only word he could find. A jumble of emotions that threatened to collide and shatter him to bits. He took a shaky breath and sank down.

He wasn’t sure how long he was there before soft footsteps broke the quiet. Bones creaked as his Mom squatted down in front of him, and her warm hand found his shoulder. “ _Priye_ ,” she whispered, “Are you okay?”

Hajime looked up. Her green eyes peered into him, peeled away any defenses he had and laid him bare. Without a word he leaned in, and she wrapped him up tight in soft, warm arms, mindless of how he was soaking and cold. Hajime shuddered and pressed his face into her neck as he clutched at her sweater with trembling hands.

“ _Maa_ ,” he choked out as tears rolled down his cheeks and gathered in her shoulder. Fingers ran down his spine, the strokes long and slow, and she murmured into his ears, the words barely audible over the sobs that shook him. But in her warm embrace he quickly calmed and relaxed until the tears had dried on his cheeks and he was still.

“ _Priye_ ,” his Mom said, voice low, “Are you alright?”

He nodded, face still buried into her now-damp shoulder.

“Tooru?”

Another nod.

“Issei?”

He hesitated. Shook his head. Her hands tightened on his back.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Hajime opened his mouth and his fingers twitched on his Mom’s back. _Do I tell her?_ Should _I tell her? Would she tell Issei’s parents? Would that be what’s best?_

She laughed, a solitary exhale in his ear as she drew him closer until he was almost in her lap. A nudge from her fingers pushed him away so he could see her face, round and full of love. “ _Priye_ , Hajime,” she whispered, “You don’t have to tell me a thing. But I’m here for you, alright? All of you. Anyone my boy loves, I will love too.”

Hajime blinked and his mouth slowly fell open. “I don’t-”

She pressed a finger to his lips, a knowing look in her eyes. “You can’t fool your mother, Hajime.”

“I know.”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “Good boy. Now come get dinner. If you want to tell me it’ll be better on a full stomach, and even if you don’t you are _not_ going to bed on an empty stomach, especially after that practice match.”

He nodded and trailed after her to the kitchen. It was over bowls of spicy curry and rice that he talked - not the full story, but enough that she could understand. She only nodded and watched him in silence, and when he was done she came around and hugged him tight, told him it would be okay, that she would wait to say something too so Issei could try and take that first step himself. He could only hope it would be. But despite that he went to bed that night feeling much easier than he had just hours before.

Going to school and seeing Issei’s tired but smiling face had never been more of a relief. So much that he merely flung himself at his friend without greeting, and Issei had to catch him, laughter bubbling up. Tooru and Takahiro had finished chaining their bikes up and piled on top of the two, grinning and squeezing tight. It was good. Calm.

They refound their routine. Little had truly changed, but it was impossible to miss the subtle things that were different. Takahiro and Issei held hands between classes, at lunch, on the walk home after practice - that usually resulted in bikes spilled on the ground and laughter. Tooru hugged Issei more, and petted his hair whenever his head was down, and while he dished out as good as he got, he never failed to read Issei’s face and carefully navigate even the subtlest of stormy expressions.

And Hajime - well, Hajime felt useless. Like all he could do was watch the black shrink and grow and shrink everyday, a constant back and forth as he helped Issei study for his Biology in return for assistance with his own English homework. Even when Issei called him at half past one to talk on the phone he felt useless, even though he could hear his trembling voice slowly lose its quaver and return to normal. That resulted in more than a few hugs from Tooru, as well as a few well-earned smacks, something that Tooru had learned from him in order to dispel a funk. But things were okay.

Summer slipped away as fall burst in, and the third semester swept them up. Sundays were a relief, and it was ritual to gather, particularly at Hajime’s, for dumb movies and now popcorn and hot chocolate and cream puffs. Hajime’s eyes were glued on the screen, the strange plot of _Let the Right One In_ fascinating enough that all four were engrossed. He’d barely felt Takahiro move in the last half hour, the soles of his feet firmly pressed to Hajime’s thighs. Though that could have been because of how Issei was sprawled in his lap, smiling faintly every time Takahiro fed him a piece of popcorn.

Tooru leaned into Hajime, his body warm and his hand warmer. “Hey, Makki, pass the cream puffs.”

The wing spiker snorted quietly and glanced over, thoroughly scandalized. “Tooru, they’re _profiteroles_ \- they are _far_ more superior to cream puffs.”

Three pairs of eyes found him. “Dude,” Tooru said slowly, “They’re the same thing.”

“They’re _not_!” Takahiro whined as he hugged his container of them closer. “Cream puffs aren’t frozen! Profiteroles are!”

“Oh, wow, what a difference, that makes me feel _so educated_ right now,” Issei teased. Takahiro squeaked with indignation and shoved at his boyfriend until Issei tumbled off and onto the floor with a thump. He looked up at Takahiro, and then to the others, mock horror and amusement glittering in his dark eyes. “Do you see what my asshole boyfriend did to me? So rude! See if I ever make a joke with you again, asshole!”

Takahiro threw his head back, laughing hard enough to shake Hajime and Tooru, and he shook his head. “Whatever you say, O great Meme King.”

Issei’s thick brows rose as he smiled. “Does that make you my Meme Queen?”

Tooru snorted, and Takahiro glanced at him, a devilish smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, dear,” he purred as he leaned over and poked Tooru in the cheek. “We’re royalty too now, like the Grand King over here.” Tooru stuck his tongue out at them, but the two ignored him as they looked at each other, then Hajime.

“So what does that make Iwaizumi?” Issei mused.

“Probably the Grand Queen. Or a prince. But he is quite the maternal unit, so-”

“Shut up, both of you,” Hajime growled, and the two chuckled.

Takahiro rose and passed his box of cream puffs to Issei, still seated on the floor. “I gotta go piss, so hold tight - and _don’t eat_. I’ve counted, and I have exactly fifteen and one-third left.”

Issei grinned at him. “Of course, _sugar muffin_.”

“Butt munch.”

Issei snorted, but Takahiro slipped away. The moment he was out of the room Issei turned to Tooru and Hajime with a grin and pulled out one of the pastry puffs. _“Yolo,”_ he whispered, and he popped it into his mouth as Tooru groaned and kicked him gently.

Issei moved away from the flailing feet and clambered up onto the couch beside Hajime. The container of cream puffs ended up on the coffee table as cold fingers burrowed under Hajime’s sweatshirt, and he jumped. “Fucking hell, Issei!”

The teen just shot him a cheeky grin as he flopped onto his lap. A moment of adjusting had him curled up into an impressively small ball, torso draped across Hajime’s legs, his own tucked neatly in and his hands curled into his chest. He twisted so he could see Hajime and held up a long, bony hand. “Hold my hand, Hajime. I’m _cold_.”

“That sounds like a bad pickup line,” Tooru teased as he tangled his fingers into Issei’s mess of curly hair.

He grinned and winked at Tooru. “Damn, the gig’s up. Guess you’d better know now that I was planning on stealing your hot hunk and running away with him to America for a super gay whirlwind wedding in Vegas.” Tooru snorted and smacked Issei’s forehead, which made him whine and squirm. “ _Hajime_ , your boyfriend is _beating_ me! Save me! Hold my hand!”

For good measure he flicked them both in the head, but he took Issei’s cold hand into his warmer ones. Tooru started to slowly pet him too, fingers moving in slow circles along his scalp. Issei hummed, pleased.

A soft laugh made them look up to Takahiro where he stood at the end of the couch, amused. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you guys were in a poly relationship without me. How rude.”

Issei grinned lazily up at him. “Nah, you’re welcome to join. Just in time for the orgy too.”

Takahiro snorted and swatted Issei’s legs until he shifted so that Takahiro could sit, and then he drew Issei’s lanky limbs into his lap. Tooru resumed the movie. Takahiro grabbed his box of cream puffs and made a small, disappointed noise that made Issei giggle, but he didn’t say anything. He just settled back, one hand on Issei’s leg, rubbing idle patterns into the skin there.

Hajime couldn’t help but do the same as Issei’s hand slowly warm, and Tooru copied that, slow drags through thick curls. Issei sighed, content, and Hajime watched as a slow smile overtook his face, sleepy but _happy_. He still had that black string, but it wasn’t large. Just a reminder that he wasn’t entirely okay, not yet.

Hajime squeezed his hand tighter, and took Issei’s other hand when he raised it. A whisper made him look down, and heat filled Hajime’s cheeks. The twist of purple and green lazily wrapped around their fingers pulsed softly, the glow warm.

Red bloomed around Hajime’s finger and crept down, slow and steady, a calm tide in no rush to reach the end. It mirrored the flow from Issei’s, and Hajime watched, fascinated, as it slowly looped around their hands and arms, overtaking the purple until it joined in the middle. Another soft hiss drew Hajime’s eyes, and he stared as red flooded Tooru and Issei’s purple string, a hot rush of scarlet that came together, tight and secure. Issei’s eyes flickered, widened a little, and then his smile spread. He nestled further into Hajime’s lap and sighed.

None of their fingers stopped moving on him, and he didn’t stop smiling, even as his breathing slowed and he dozed off. He was still asleep when the movie ended, and Hajime glanced to Tooru and Takahiro. Both grinned and shook their heads. “I guess we can just turn on regular TV,” Tooru whispered.

“Ah yes, and go straight to the fuck boy channel,” Takahiro said back with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Please don’t,” Hajime mumbled as he ran his fingers along Issei’s knuckles. Soft laughter filled his ears, warm and golden, and he couldn’t help but smile faintly.

A hand brushed across his forearm, and he glanced at Takahiro. His amber eyes flitted between Hajime and Issei as he worried his lip. He sighed softly, thumbed Issei’s ankle. “It’s better, right?” Hajime nodded.

“Thank God,” Takahiro breathed, and the warm fingertips on Hajime’s arm squeezed a little. Threatened to push him into things he wasn’t sure _any_ of them were ready for. That and that faint smile as Takahiro reached forward to stroke Issei’s cheek, so much adoration in his eyes that it snatched Hajime’s breath.

“He’s had it so rough lately…” he murmured. His thumb stilled by a closed eye. Issei’s nose twitched. “He’s afraid to come out to his parents. He doesn’t know how they’ll react, though his sister is okay... It’s made him stress out a lot - royally fucked up his sleep, and that’s making his grades suck. Even then… there’s still some things he won’t tell me.” His fingers dropped to brush over Issei’s lips, and then he pulled back and glanced from Hajime to Tooru. “I just want him to be _happy_.”

Tooru reached across Hajime and took Takahiro’s hand into his. “I know. He’s getting there. Right, Hajime?”

He nodded with a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “He is… it’ll be a while before the black thread goes away though, I think.”

Takahiro sniffed. Pressed the hand on Issei’s ankle to his eyes as he blinked back tears. “I know… I know.” Tooru squeezed him tighter. Hajime draped an arm over him and hugged him, a little awkward with how they were seated, but warm and nice nonetheless.

And he didn’t want it any other way. Issei woke later in the day, and the four of them ate dinner at Hajime’s before they went to their own homes to prepare for another week of practices and classes. The late nights were made later frequently - Tooru still regularly woke from nightmares to text or call him, and Issei started to do the same. Though his weren’t spurned by nightmares.

Sometimes he told Hajime. More often than not he just talked about funny posts he’d found on Tumblr, or they’d walk each other through homework, or even tell stories. Hajime’s revolved around Tooru and their childhood. Issei’s were mixed box - Hajime never knew if he’d tell of antics he and Takahiro had gotten up to together in middle school or if he would read stories he’d written in class, or even make them up on the spot. Those tales Issei wove were good, and it gave them something to practice Hajime’s English with, and edits so Issei could better his grammar.

It meant that Hajime woke in the morning with deepening circles beneath his eyes, but he couldn’t complain. Not when that thread remained nice and slender, and Issei’s smiles bloomed more consistently.

Those smiles replayed in Hajime’s mind constantly - distracted him too. But he couldn’t help it, not with how Issei’s sleepy eyes would crinkle at the edges as his eyes glittered, and how his teeth would flash with the cooked lilt of his lips, and- _“Hajime.”_

He blinked. His Mom eyed him over a spoonful of rice, smiling herself. “Thinking about one of your boys?”

He licked his dry lips and swallowed with an awkward laugh. “I… yeah. Issei.”

She hummed and pointed her spoon at him. “Have you talked with him or Takahiro yet? I’m sure you and Tooru have talked about it - you two are so in love with them that it’s almost like I’m watching a romcom every time you boys are together.”

Heat flooded Hajime’s cheeks and he buried his face into his hands with a quiet groan. “ _Maa_! I-”

“Don’t say _‘I’m not that obvious’_. Airi didn’t even know the other three until a little while ago, but she asked me if you all were dating-”

“Okay, _okay_ , I get it!” Hajime grumbled as he peeked between his fingers. His Mom shot a cheeky grin at him. It faded after a moment, replaced by a more serious expression. She reached across the table and held her hand out expectantly until he let her take his hand.

She smiled softly, a warm encouraging smile that took him straight back to the summer when he was six years old. He’d fallen off his bike and cried, palms and knees and elbows bleeding, but she’d cleaned him off and looked him in the eyes with that same honeyed smile and told him to try again. He had. And now he was rapt, all thoughts of beautiful smiles and glittering brown or amber eyes gone. She squeezed his hand. The orange strings around their hands and wrists tightened ever so slightly. “They love you, truly. All you need to do is talk to them. _All_ of them.”

Hajime nodded, head spinning. _I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. How many parents encourage their teen child to have a polyamorous relationship?_ Not many he could imagine. It took a long stretch of silence for him to find his words, and when he did they came out stilted and slow. “I… I want to. Really. We’ve talked about it - Tooru ‘n I. We _both_ want to, but… we just wanna make sure Issei is okay first.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever seen his mother more proud - probably, lost amidst a haze of childhood days gone fuzzy and adrenaline in volleyball matches. But it left him warm.

“You can do it,” she said softly, and she squeezed his hand again and pulled back. “Now eat up! You’ve got a practice match this weekend, and you need to have lots of energy for the practices until then!”

“Yes _Maa_ ,” he said as he dug into the agedashi tofu and rice that he’d piled onto his plate. She beamed at him and began to eat again too.

When he devoured it all and helped his Mom clear the plates away he slipped back up to his room. He spread his notebooks out, but he didn’t get much further when his phone vibrated beside him, longer and more prolonged than it would’ve been for a text. He glanced at the caller ID for a moment and smiled at Issei’s name on the screen before he picked up. “Hey.”

_“Hajime! Guess what!”_

He smiled and laid back on his bed, phone curled to his ear and one hand in his hair. It was nothing short of a blessing to hear him so excited. It warmed Hajime’s chest, and he hummed. “What?”

_“I got a one-hundred on my Bio test! I forgot to mention it to you! And the teacher loved the short story you looked over!”_

“That’s fantastic, Issei.” Hajime grinned to himself, chest bubbling with all sorts of pleasant feelings he couldn’t even begin to put a name to. “I knew you could do it. You’re smarter than you think.”

Issei laughed, but it wasn’t the nervous, unsure chuckle - no, it was deep and rich and _happy_ . Hajime buried his face into a pillow as though that could smother the heat that filled his cheeks as Issei’s laughter died away. _“Thanks to you, Hajime. I really couldn’t have done it without your help - you’re a bomb ass tutor. Eleven out of ten would recommend again.”_

“Issei-”

_“Shush, let me spread my dumb memes.”_

“Spread them like the plague then.”

Another hiccup of laughter bubbled up, and Hajime heard a rustle. Silence lapsed, comfortable, short. _“Hajime.”_ He blinked at Issei’s muted voice and hummed. _“Thank you,”_ Issei said softly, _“You’re really fantastic, helping me out like this. I wish I was as smart as you.”_

“You are.” Issei made a noise, but Hajime barreled on. “You are smart, just like I’m smart, and Tooru’s smart. We all have something we’re good at. You’re good at English and grammar and all that shit. I’m decent at Biology and Chemistry and crap. Tooru’s good at math. Hell, Hanamaki is like the jack of all trades and just shit at everything.”

Issei snorted. _“That’s pretty close to the truth. Poor asshole is always studying.”_

“Mm, because we’re all smart in our own ways, dumbass. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Issei huffed - it was easy to imagine the eyeroll that Issei had perfected going with that, and then the nod. _“Fine, fine. But really, thanks.”_

“Of course. We’re friends.” He glanced at his right hand, down to the twist of scarlet and jade that tied he and Issei together. _And then some._ In time anyways. But Hajime was patient. He could wait.

_“... Hajime?”_

“Yeah?”

_“I… ah, never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”_

“So long as you don’t show me any more of that green frog,” he teased, and Issei burst into laughter once more.

_“Just for that I’m going to make sure Taka ‘n I harass you with both of them all day long!”_

“Both… there are two?”

Issei paused. Not a good pause - the kind that made Hajime imagine a devious, sinister smirk spreading across his lips. The kind that always came when he got a particularly exciting idea to tease someone with. _“Oh Hajime, Hajime, Hajime,”_ he crooned, and the soft sound made Hajime shiver, _“You poor innocent soul. It’s quite the miracle considering you’re dating Tooru and friends with us, but hey, we’ve got plenty of time to ruin you.”_

Hajime snorted and shook his head. “God be with me.”

_“You called?”_

Hajime groaned, but Issei broke into a fresh round of giggles that made Hajime’s stomach flipped as he curled in on his side and held his phone closer. “You’re a loser.”

_“And you’re short.”_

“Shut your ass.”

_“Mmm, nah, I gotta make money my dear friend.”_

“Too much information.”

Issei snorted, then sighed. _“I have to go. Writing gay porn waits for no one.”_

Hajime blinked. Took a deep breath. “Issei.”

 _“Yes?”_ Issei sang, long and drawn out.

“I really hate you sometimes.” Issei just made kissing noises into the receiver and Hajime pinched his brow. “ _Goodbye_ Issei.”

_“Bye Hajime!”_

He dropped his phone beside him once the call was over and pressed his hands to his burning face. And, well, if his hands wandered and he smothered gasps and moans with his pillow, no one had to know. No one except Tooru anyways.

Tooru, who had been there by his side practically since birth. Who Hajime had taken his first steps with. Spoken with, Hajime in excited words he shrieked out, Tooru in a full sentence at almost three years old. Who’d picked up that volleyball with him, setting them both on a path filled with golds, purples, greens, and reds. Who’d kissed him beneath full green canopies after practice in that second month of high school, sweet and chaste and oh so warm.

Who was nestled into his side, his breathing slow and easy, his eyes glued to the TV, his fingers tangled into Hajime’s sweatshirt. Hajime had one hand tangled into Tooru’s soft hair, the other draped over his side. Tooru’s leg was stretched out, knee brace and an ice pack laid overtop. Hajime hadn’t protested the arrangement, or the movie - the fact that Tooru had actually listened to him on the first try to get him to ice his knee was enough to make Hajime agree to any B-film Tooru pulled out of his ass. _Though maybe I should have told him to pick something that’s actually halfway decent._ But from the quiet laughs that shook them both it was clear that Tooru at least enjoyed the film.

“But holy fuck, how dumb do these people have to be?” he mumbled to himself.

He felt Tooru grin against his stomach. “Pretty dumb, Hajime. That’s what makes it so _good_.”

“‘Good’ is _not_ the word I would use,” he muttered.

Tooru laughed again and straightened up so that he could look at Hajime, brown eyes wide and bright behind those huge, dorky glasses. “They’re good because they’re dumb, and because I get to watch them with you.” Hajime snorted and shoved at Tooru, which made him burst into giggles, eyes scrunched up and teeth flashing. Hajime felt his heart jump.

It was natural to lean down and peck Tooru’s lips, and the laughter died against his mouth. He made to move back, but Tooru chased after him, moving so that he straggled Hajime’s waist as he treaded his fingers through Hajime’s short hair. His lips were soft and smelled nice, and Hajime couldn’t resist the urge to bite at them as he wrapped his arms around Tooru and tugged him close.

Their chests pressed together, Tooru’s as warm as ever, and his fingers tightened in Hajime’s hair. His teeth grew rough, hungry, and Hajime smiled at it, at the sheer challenge that Tooru presented, and he gave back as good as he got. He licked his way into Tooru’s mouth. Sucked hard on his lip until it swelled. Nipped his tongue and dragged down ragged gasps as they melted together, bit by bit.

“I love you,” Tooru breathed when they pulled apart, and he swooped back in before Hajime could say anything, before he could breathe _I love you too_ against Tooru’s sweet lips. He knew that Tooru knew though, and he left it unsaid as he tipped his head to the side and squeezed Tooru’s sides, slid his hands down to the waistband of his jeans.

The breaths fanning across his face hitched, and Tooru’s hands tugged harder on his hair. “Hajime…” he said lowly, but Hajime shook his head.

“Just holding,” he whispered, and Tooru groaned quietly.

“Gotta get my hopes up don’t you?”

“More than that,” Hajime teased quietly as he pecked Tooru’s lips, “But yeah, I do.”

“Asshole.”

“Unfortunately.” Tooru huffed and pulled back a little so Hajime could get a full view of his disappointed pout and the hungry look in his eyes. “When then?”

“When Hell freezes probably,” Hajime said with a shrug.

Tooru whined and buried his face into Hajime’s neck. “So rude, Iwa, so rude.”

“Oh, so we’re back to surnames now?” Hajime swatted Tooru in the side gently. “Later.”

Tooru leaned back and grinned, eyes scrunched up once more. “Okay!” He leaned back in and pressed another kiss to Hajime’s mouth, sweeter, no longer quite so hungry, and he slumped against Hajime. His arms fell to loop lazily around Hajime’s neck. His chest rose and fell with even breaths.

Hajime settled his arms comfortably around Tooru and settled back so he could see the ceiling, spotted with stars that would glow in the horus to come. “You gotta take those off your ceiling someday,” he murmured quietly, and Tooru snorted.

“Never, Hajime. They’re not _childish_. Though…” Fingers tickled the short hairs at Hajime’s nape, made him shiver as Tooru held still for a long moment. “I’d love to put them on the ceiling in real constellations, or paint them there… if we move in together.”

Hajime’s arms tightened around Tooru as he settled his chin on his best friend’s shoulder. “Not _‘if’_ , you dumbass. _‘When’_. When we move in together.” The twitch of lips into a smile warmed Hajime and he kissed the pale skin before him. “You can paint the ceiling with a whole damn galaxy for all I care. So long as it doesn’t fuck up our lease or anything if we’re renting.”

Tooru’s body shook with quiet laughter. “Okay, okay. I’d have to ask Makki though - he’s the artist, though I’ve got the know-how.”

“Yeah, you do, you smart little shit.”

Another smile, smaller this time. “I only believe it because of you,” he whispered.

Hajime didn’t respond. Just squeezed him tighter. Tried hard to squash the countless calls spent bring Tooru back from hysterics, the numerous times he’d held him close to bring him back from his freefall of anxiety. “Good,” he said gruffly.

Tooru huffed out a laugh and kissed his neck, then settled back into place. His fingers toyed with those short hairs. His warm exhales whispered over Hajime’s skin, leaving goosebumps in the wake of every inhale. “Do you think we’ll be with them by then?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly, honestly. “I hope so. I’d like live with you and them.”

“Me too…”

“Though I don’t know if they’ll be able to tolerate you watching _Alien_ every week,” he teased.

Tooru grinned and turned into his neck, kissed him beneath his ear. “Just like you and Godzilla though,” he breathed. Another kiss, this one to the corner of his jaw. Hajime sighed and tipped his head back. At that allowance Tooru’s smile spread and widened, and he mouthed hungrily at Hajime’s jaw, enough to make him shiver, but not hard enough to dapple him with hickies. “What do you think it’ll be like?” Tooru murmured before he moved on.

Hajime shrugged. Brought one hand up to pet Tooru’s fluffy brown hair. “It’ll be nice.”

“Just nice?”

Hajime groaned and flicked Tooru on his neck. “Fine. It’ll be… good. Great. I’d get to see all three of you idiots every single day. I’m sure we’d get a custom bed, or push two together so we can all sleep together. It’d be hot as balls, but-”

“Okay,” Tooru grumbled as he drew back, lips pulled into a mock pout, “That just ruined it.”

Hajime just grinned and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to those pouting lips, which morphed into a sweet smile as he chased Hajime for another kiss, then another. He could only pull Tooru closer and closer still, desperate to feel and touch more, desperate to ingrain the sensation of his touches, his kisses, his warmth, into his body. Hajime smiled. “I love you too, Tooru.”

Those words weren’t just on his tongue though. They were in the way their hands tangled together the next day on the way into the school, their bikes chained and bags slung over their shoulders. In the way he cuffed Tooru over the head at the next practice to break him out of the spiral of self-doubt that had started because his serves were off. In the kanji he scribbled onto Tooru’s notebook, an explanation to Tooru’s English homework that Issei had helped him with just hours before.

But it was there for Issei and Takahiro too. There in how he shoved a rice ball at Issei and a creme puff at Takahiro at lunch on Wednesday. In the hands that ruffled their hair as they parted ways on Thursday. In the high fives they coerced him into, encouragement for their practice match the next day. The subtle _‘I love you’_ s invaded every aspect of his life, creeping out when he least expected it.

But instead of distracting him it buoyed him instead, and left him in a cloud as he prepared for the practice matches on Saturday, the team chattering behind him. It fortified his spikes, which powered through block after block, securing his place even more firmly. Putting the title of _Ace_ just a little closer. And all he could do was grin.

Even once their matches were over and they were in the locker room once more, the talk loud. Hajime couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, so he just busied himself. Jersey off. White tee and jacket on. Swapped his shorts. Shoved his clothes into his back and tossed his practice jersey into the bin so it could be washed, then he sank onto the bench.

The captain came by and clapped his shoulder. “Good job, Iwaizumi. Make sure you ice your shoulder tonight!”

“Can do.”

Tooru leaned in when the captain left. His fingers trailed along Hajime’s shoulder, proud in the way his fingers squeezed there before they wound their way into his hair. “You’re so amazing, Hajime.”

He hummed and squeezed Tooru’s fingers. “Hurry up.” _You did so well._

“I’m trying.” _I know._ Their own silent language, and it made his chest burn, even more than the satisfying spikes had.

“I’m gonna go talk to the coach, okay? Don’t leave without me, Iwa!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Tooru’s hand disappeared and Hajime dragged a hand through his hair as he glanced around the locker room. Issei had garnered a group too, bright smiles on every face as they ruffled his hair and gave him high fives.

“Matsukawa, stellar blocks man! Those are even better than the captain’s!”

“Yeah, looks like he’s got something to watch out for!”

“He’s got the best form for sure! Matsukawa, you were built for middle blocker.”

“Matsukawa,” one of the underclassmen chirped, “Can you teach me how to block like that?” He grabbed one of the other underclassmen and beamed. “His blocks are just so! So! So _woah_ ! And his arms go up with a _woosh_ , and he’s got this look and-”

Hajime stopped listening. Their words dropped away as his eyes remained on Issei’s face. The smile flickered. Hajime’s heart stuttered. A hiss, low and threatening, pricked at his ears, and his eyes slid up. The string on Issei’s head trembled, caught in a breeze that didn’t exist. Thick coils of inky black slunk down and lashed themselves to the quavering strand. Two, three, four times the size it had been just second before. His blood pounded in his ears, but to Hajime it felt like there was icy slush in his veins, locking him in place as he stared.

Issei smiled. Strained, too subtle for anyone who didn’t know him well enough to see. He tugged at his curls, knuckles white. Nodded and laughed. Straightened up and grabbed his bag. “Sorry guys,” he said, “There’s a test tomorrow I’ve gotta study for.”

Some of their teammates cringes sympathetically and patted his shoulders.

“Good luck dude.”

“Yeah! Go ace that test!”

He grinned at them and snatched his bag up, turned away. _I have to stop him._ Hajime lurched up and took a step.

A hand curled around his wrist and he twisted, blank for a moment before he realized that the person holding his hand was Takahiro. “Hajime?” he said softly, “What’s up?”

His mouth worked, speechless for a moment, and he sucked down a haggard breath. “Issei…” Takahiro’s eyes widened and his grip tightened. Hajime leaned closer, grabbed Takahiro’s wrist. “Get Tooru. Go to Issei’s. I have to go. _Now._ ” Takahiro released his hand and Hajime spun around.

Teammates called out, but he barely heard their voices, couldn’t distinguish their words. He just pushed his way out and staggered into the hall. The double doors to his right shut with a click and Hajime darted over, pushed his way out. Cold air slapped him, stole the breath from his lungs. In the dark he could see Issei hunched over by the bike rack, but before he could call out Issei slid onto it and pushed away.

“Issei!”

The teen didn’t turn, and Hajime lunged forward. It took two frantic tries to unlock his bike from the rack and he ripped it out of place and climbed on. By the time he managed to pick up speed Issei was beyond the gates, but Hajime had an idea of where he was going, and he hunched further over his handlebars, begged that his legs would be fast enough. It was frigid. The winter air sucked at his lungs, turned the sweat on his back cold. He’d forgotten everything - jacket, bag, phone. It didn’t matter. The world had narrowed down to Issei, finally in sight, wind whipping his white and teal jacket behind him.

“Issei!”

The teen still didn’t look back. Hajime ground his teeth together, begged for a little bit more from his aching thighs and calves, from his prickling throat and lungs. He couldn’t close the distance, but he wasn’t far behind when Issei rolled up to his house and slid off his bike. Hajime couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in his ears as he skidded to a halt in the Matsukawa’s yard and nearly threw himself off his bike.

Issei stood at the door, his entire body quivering as he pressed his key to the doorknob, but Hajime couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he stared. The dark coil oozed down around him like a noose, strangling, suffocating, all-consuming. He didn’t realize he’d moved. That’d he’d climbed up those four stone steps. Crossed the distance. He just wrapped his arms around Issei, both of them trembling violently. “Issei,” he whispered into a sharp shoulder, “Issei, I’m here.”

His entire body hitched and the hand that had uselessly jabbed the key at the knob fell away. “Hajime…” A weak laugh bubbled up. “What’s up? If you wanted to bone me you should’ve asked, though I do have a test-”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

A deep breath and Issei lapsed back into silence for a moment. His hand was cold when it coiled over Hajime’s. “Oh? Studying with me then? I didn’t know you had a test, but-”

“You don’t have a test, Issei.”

His fingers dug into the back of Hajime’s hand. “I-” he croaked. Another shudder rippled through his body. Issei’s head fell forward. Something splashed onto their hands. “Hajime…”

“I’m right here. I’m here for _you_.”

A sob ruptured the silence of the night, and Hajime squeezed Issei tighter. The teen squirmed in his grasp, twisted and sagged into him. Arms wrapped around him, a head burrowed into Hajime’s neck. His entire body hitched with another sob, but this time they didn’t stop. He gasped into Hajime’s shoulder, breathing quick, too quick, and Hajime pulled him in, closer, more secure. “I’m right here,” he said softly. “Breathe Issei, it’s okay. You’re safe, it’ll be okay. In and out, nice and slow, okay? You can do it. You can do this.”

His only answer was a weak whine, and Hajime took a deep, slow breath. Focused on the way air rushed into his lungs, on the heartbeat that pulsed in his ears and the one that fluttered against his chest. “Feel that? You can do it. I know you can. Feel me. Copy me. You can do it, I know it.”

Issei shuddered against him. Another whine, but he nodded. Hajime traced Issei’s spine, his ribs, careful, delicate paths down his back. An attempt to remind him that he was alive, _here_. The breaths hitched, ragged, but slowly the began to even out, shaky and uncertain. His fingers tightened, tugged on the back of Issei’s sweat-soaked shirt. It clung to him, made him shiver at how frigid it was, but he ignored it, pushed it back as he stared at the front door and curled a hand into Issei’s soft hair.

“Hajime…” he managed, voice just shy of a whisper. “I…”

“I know Issei. I know. That’s why I followed you. That’s why I came.”

Issei sniffed and pulled back, face scrunched up in confusion, but his eyes slid past Hajime before he could speak. Hajime turned. A weak smile crept onto his lips. Takahiro and Tooru slid off their bikes, eyes wide, face white in the porchlight. Two bags were nestled in Tooru’s basket.

Relieved smiles spread across their faces, even as tears started to pour down Takahiro’s cheeks. “Mattsun?” he whispered. His voice cracked halfway through it, and Issei’s grip on Hajime’s shirt tightened.

“Hey there Makki,” he whispered, “What’s it like Miyagi?”

Takahiro pressed a palm to his face as he sniffed, but that smile didn’t slip. “Fuck you, don’t you quote ‘Hey There Delilah’, you asshole.”

Issei just gave a warbling laugh and wiped his own eyes. His smile faded after a moment. He glanced at shoes, then each of them, then back at the ground. “We… should go inside.”

Hajime shivered, and Issei hugged him closer before he turned. This time his hand was steadier when he unlocked the door, and they stepped in behind him. They dropped their shoes and bags in the entryway, followed Issei in. “I’ll… go make some tea,” he said after a moment.

“No,” Takahiro said as he slipped forward and grabbed Issei’s wrist. “I can do it. Besides, I make better tea than you.”

Issei managed a fragile smile and shook his head. “You fuckin’ wish, jackass.”

But he let Takahiro go forward into the kitchen anyways, and they all followed their friend, arranged themselves around the table and watched as Takahiro bustled around. He made four cups of lavender tea, set them down one by one. His hands trembled, nearly spilled it onto the table, but somehow he found control.

They drank in silence.

Tooru was on his third cup before Issei sighed. “We… can go up to my room and talk. Might be better than down here.”

Takahiro reached across the table, curled his hand around Issei’s wrist. “We don’t have to,” he said softly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

A laugh choked Issei, painful and sad, and he shook his head. “I don’t want to. I _need_ to. Y’know?”

Tense silence hung over them, Takahiro’s eyes were wide, his mind clearly racing. But it was Tooru that broke it with a soft exhale. “I know what you mean. Come on. Let’s go.”

Issei nodded. The cups were set in the sink. Soft footsteps filled the dead house as they made their way upstairs. Issei’s room was messy, but in a strange way. The bed was made, but papers filled Issei’s desk, stuck out from his drawers, most covered in writing. Pens were scattered everywhere. A trio of cups half-filled with water sat on a bookshelf, and half of the books that had once filled it were stacked on his dresser. Clothes had been dropped carelessly. A volleyball lay in the middle of everything.

Issei laughed nervously, hands fluttering by his sides. “I’m sorry my room’s… yeah. It’s been…” Tooru closed a comforting hand over his shoulder and Issei sighed quietly. He crawled onto his bed, pressed himself into the corner. Takahiro sat beside him, and Tooru took the desk chair. Hajime leaned against his dresser, folded his arms. Watched as Issei’s fingers twitched. As Takahiro drew his legs into his chest. As Tooru bit at his thumb, a nervous tic from middle school that had never managed to go away.

A smack made them all flinch as Issei clapped his hands to his cheeks with a sharp inhale. “Sorry,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile, fragile. The coil of black around his neck tightened, loosened.

_Is it smaller than earlier? I think so._

Issei dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I… it’s stupid to have not said anything, y’know? But I thought I could handle it, I thought it would go away…” He shook his head. “It’s… been almost six months since it all started, and it feels like I can’t control this… anything… I should’ve just said something when it all started, but…” He shrugged, listless. “It’s Japan. Yeah, we’re all gay in some way - especially you, asshole.”

He prodded Takahiro, but they both barely managed strained smiles before Issei looked back to his feet. “We’re lucky that this area is pretty chill - no hate mail or death threats or shit, but it’s still scary, yeah? And… when you figure out it’s more than just being gay - it’s weird. It’s hard. Because I’ve looked around so much, and a lot of people don’t understand or care, even in the community, and-”

“Issei.” The teen’s mouth froze, half-open, and Tooru reached for him. “You’re hyperventilating. You need to try and calm down, okay?”

A weak laugh bubbled out, even as his shoulders hitched in another frantic breath. Issei nodded, pressed his hands over his mouth. He watched Tooru, eyes glued to him. Timed their breaths together until his slowly fell back into a good rhythm. Something reminiscent of middle school when Tooru had done the same with him. When he was calm Issei scrubbed his cheeks once more, tugged on his hair, and sighed.

“Agender. I-I’m agender. I haven’t felt right in my body for months, and when I found that on a post on Tumblr everything made _sense_ . The first thing I did was go to my sister’s room and pull on one of her skirts, and it felt really _nice_. Like… fuck.” Palms pressed to face, Issei shuddered and hunched over.

This time it was Takahiro who reached out and cupped Issei’s shoulder. “What pronouns do you use?” he whispered.

The question made Issei twitch, and brown eyes flicked around before a shuddering inhale came. “They. I use they. I wanted to say something, but…”

His - _their_ hands clenched. The orange string on Issei’s chest glittered as their fingertips pressed around it. “My sister walked in and saw me. She’s so amazing and supportive… But I wasn’t sure if I could tell you guys, if it would be okay. I didn’t want to lose you, and… that really fucked me up.” Issei sniffled quietly. The others just waited in silence as they dragged a sleeve along their cheeks, wiped away fresh tears, and slowly continued. “I didn’t want to get depressed, and I wish that none of this had happened… but…”

“You were scared,” Hajime said softly.

Issei nodded, miserable. “It’s so stupid. I can trust you guys with fucking _everything_ , but… but I c-couldn’t say it. Couldn’t tell you how I really felt, how things were getting worse, how… how… how I l-love all three of you assholes an-and that I hate myself and want to die, and _oh God, oh my God_ -”

Hajime surged forward. The bed dipped beneath him as he took Issei’s hands into his, cold inside his warm grasp as sharp gasps punctured the silence. “You have to breathe, Issei,” he said, voice soft and calm. “Come on. You can do it. Breathe for me, okay? You’ve got this. You can do it. We’re here.”

Issei choked as the black coil around their neck and head tightened. Hajime reached up, brushed his fingers across Issei’s cheek. Across the swirling black. It was oily to the touch, seething and vicious as it roiled, sentient in its own way.  He bit back a cringe as his body chilled, and he pressed his thumb to Issei’s cheek, brought their hand to his chest.

“Breathe with me.”

Issei blinked and deep brown eyes found Hajime, blinked away tears. He inhaled slowly. Issei hitched, tried to copy. Stuttering breaths filled the room, painful to hear. But Hajime breathed slowly, murmured quietly to Issei, who nodded and never tore their gaze from him. The mass of darkness around them loosened. The black that had lashed itself into place earlier cracked. White peeked through, hesitant. And slowly they began to calm once more until all that remained was the snot and tears that coated their face. Quiet returned, calmer this time.

“Well,” Tooru said softly, “That makes two ugly criers.” A giggle burst out of Issei, and the coil slipped from around their neck, back into place above their head as a little more chipped away and dissolved into the air.

“More than two,” Takahiro added, “I’m the definition of ugly crier. I’ve got enough tears to fill the oceans and enough snot to fill _two_ Olympic swimming pools.”

“Taka,” Issei groaned, even as more laughter eased out, “That’s fucking disgusting.” But the white that shot through the black was anything but, and Hajime let out a shaky breath of his own.

“What about you, Hajime?” Takahiro chirped.

“Oh, Iwa was a totally hideous crier when we were kids,” Tooru teased, and Hajime could hear the smirk in his voice. “Crybaby too!”

“That was you, asshole.”

Laughter, full-blown this time, shook Issei, and this time they didn’t stop. Hajime sank back and smiled, one hand on theirs, his eyes trains upwards as white shot through the black, thicker and thicker, more and more, until half of the slender black thread that remained was pale, stark. “You guys are idiots,” Issei wheezed.

Hajime grinned. “That we are.”

“But we all love you,” Takahiro said softly as he reached forward and settled his hand overtop of Hajime and Issei’s. Tooru bumped Hajime from the other side and did the same.

“In a super gay way,” Tooru chimed in, and Hajime rolled his eyes.

Issei just grinned and wiped their face again with a quiet sniff. “So… you’re okay with it?”

“Of course we are, _sugar muffin_ .” Issei scowled and flicked Takahiro, who only grinned wider for a moment before his expression grew serious. “I’m sorry we didn’t make it clearer that you can come to us about _anything_. Maybe we could have helped. But we’re here for you, and we’ll do the best we can to make sure you’re happy and comfortable.”

“Takahiro is right,” Tooru whispered as he reached forward and ruffled Issei’s hair. “You mean the world to us.”

When those brown eyes flicked to Hajime he smiled and nodded. A faint smile spread across Issei’s lips. “That’s… so dorky.”

“Hey!” Takahiro cried, and he pulled back to grab a pillow. Issei shrieked as Takahiro smacked one across their face, and Tooru burst into laughter as he leaned away and snatched one up too.

Someone shoved a pillow into Hajime’s arms seconds before one caught him in the face. He rocked back, then leaned forward with a grin. “Fuckers,” he growled as he hit Tooru with the pillow, then pushed Takahiro down and whapped him in the face.

A pillow caught him in the back, another on the back of his head, and he turned to attack Issei. Fingers caught him in the side and Hajime instantly curled in on himself as he fell back onto the bed. Three faces loomed over him, devious smirks all around.

“Oh?” Takahiro purred, “Hajime is ticklish? Tooru, why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“Because I like to keep my limbs intact,” Tooru scoffed.

Issei smiled. “He won’t do anything. He’s a big _softie_.”

Hajime growled at them, but that didn’t stop the fingers from coming in. Someone pinned his legs, and another grabbed his arms, and fingers crawled along his sides. He couldn’t bite back the squeak that burst out, or the hysterical laughter that bubbled up as he fruitlessly tried to squirm away, desperate for escape.

Their fingers roamed along his sides, then beneath his shirt to skitter across his hitching ribs. Someone tickled his armpit, and another poked the back side of his knee and feet, and Hajime could only gasp and thrash, crying and laughing, chest burning, until those hands stilled on him. A pair cupped his cheeks. Another settled on his chest. The last of the hands on his stomach. Hajime blinked.

Tooru hovered over him, an impossibly sweet smile on his lips as he took Hajime in. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re an asshole,” he croaked.

The other two giggled and he glanced to them. Issei was still perched on Hajime’s thighs, and Takahiro sat by his side. Their smiles matched Tooru’s. Honey sweet and full of so much warmth and love that it made his chest _ache_. They let him sit up and he rubbed his chest, still bubbling with happiness, even as he glared at them. “Fuck you all.”

“Wouldn’t you like that though?” Takahiro quipped, and Issei high-fived him with a grin.

The quiet slipped back in, but this time it was calm. Content. A hand snuck into his. Tooru’s. Then Takahiro’s into his other, cooler than Tooru’s. He held their fingers loosely, pressed his toes to Issei’s foot. Issei stared at his flexing toes for a moment before they looked up, thick brows scrunched up. “How’d you know?” Tooru giggled and clapped a hand over his mouth as Takahiro snorted. Hajime just smiled weakly.

“Would you believe me if I told you it was fate?”

Somehow he managed to not throttle Tooru for the noises he made, reminiscent of a dying whale, and instead he held his hand out, curled his fingers. Issei blinked, then extended their right hand. Hajime turned it over and traced the lines in their palm, slow enough that their fingers twitched and they smiled, until he reached the base of their pinky. “If I told you that the red string of fate was real, would you believe me?”

Issei blinked at him. Looked to the other two, who were sober-faced, wide-open and easy to read. Brown eyes flicked back to him. “If I told you there was more than red? That there were ones for every kind of love? For life and death? As a mark for important things to come?”

Issei’s eyes widened. Their cheeks went red. _“Oh my God-”_

“Surprise,” Tooru sang, “You and Takahiro being in love with us is old news.”

Issei snatched their hand back and buried their burning face into their palms, even as laughter bubbled out, nervous and confused. “Oh… oh hell. Are you…? Oh _shit_.” Hajime just smiled and propped his head on his chin and watched as Issei slowly began to wrap their mind around it, just like Takahiro had. As Takahiro kissed their cheek and whispered something for Issei’s ears only.

“It’s okay,” Tooru said after a moment, “We weren’t going to say anything. And we’re not going to do anything until we’ve all had a chance to think and talk - _and not tonight_. Issei, your health comes first, and I will not allow us to strain you anymore.”

Issei blinked, and then a slow smile began to spread. “You sure it’s not just because you can’t risk having me fail classes and get suspended from the team, or fuck up that starting spot next year?”

Tooru stuck his tongue out and flicked their forehead. “Hush. Now, do you want us to stay the night?” They blinked, and then ducked their head. Shoulders hunched forward, fingers wound together nervously.

“Y-yeah… Please. My parents aren’t gonna be back until Monday, ‘n I don’t want to be alone.”

Tooru grinned and patted their knee. “Okay. We’ll call our parents.”

Two calls and a series of texts found them sprawled out on two futons, the bed totally abandoned. Issei lay in the middle, Takahiro pressed right up against them with his arm slung over their waist, and Tooru and Hajime in a similar position. They didn’t break the tranquility of the quiet, just laid there and slowly began to drift, the weight and work from the day finally sinking in. And just before Hajime slipped off he heard a whisper, faint but certain.

“Thank you.”

He smiled.

Things changed a lot after that. Issei claimed a starting spot in the lineup, their blocks having improved so much, and only showing signs of more. Hajime, Takahiro, and Tooru found texts waiting on them almost every time Issei felt even slightly anxious and gently coaxed it out if Issei didn’t. With every week, every practice game and tournament, every month that ticked along the black shriveled away.

Some days it grew, but it was manageable. Less terrifying and just _there_ . The weight off of _all_ of their shoulders didn’t escape his mother’s disarmingly sharp eye, and they came to his place to find homemade cheese-filled hamburger steak three weeks later. Issei proclaimed their undying love for Hajime’s mother, which earned them a playful swat from Takahiro. But it all marked a change.

A shift to more relief despite the crush of exams and the realization of _college_ and how close it loomed. Closer and closer still until the end of their second year stood before them, yet another crushing defeat from Shiratorizawa behind them and the battle of exams before them. To things that could mean _more_. A thought that remained in Hajime’s mind, ever more present now than ever before.

“Captain…” Tooru said softly to his star-covered ceiling, and Hajime smiled.

“You’ve earned it.”

A strangled laugh escaped Tooru. “Do I though? I’m not really captain material. I overwork myself. I nearly hit Tobio-”

“When you were a _child_. And an idiot. A bigger one than now anyways.”

“Hey!” Tooru whined weakly as he swatted Hajime, but he settled back beside him quick enough. His hand flopped back to the bed. The one beside Hajime reached out, and Hajime curled their fingers together.

“You’ll be a good captain.” Resolute. No room for arguments.

“But-”

 _Trust this asshole to try and argue._ He rolled over and sat up to straddle Tooru’s waist in one smooth move. Hajime grabbed both of those hands, bruised and red, his left ring and middle finger bound together with tape. He stared Tooru down, pinned him into place as he raised those battered hands to his lips.

“You’re perfect.” A kiss to the pinky. “As close as you can be anyways.” The ring finger. “Smart too.” Middle now. “And handsome as shit.” A brush to the index. “Compassionate.” A peck to his thumb.

Tooru’s lip trembled. “Oh, that’s a big word, Iwa.”

He scowled half-heartedly and moved to his left hand. “Did I mention you’re an asshole?” A gentle kiss to that thumb. “But with a good heart.” Index. “With a good head oh those cocky shoulders.” Middle. “A natural leader.” Ring. “You give it your all.” Pinky.

Hajime turned Tooru’s hands, spoke the next words into his palm. “You give _everything_ your all, no matter what, and strive to give better than what you get.”

He turned to the other palm, but this one he didn’t kiss. He pressed it to his cheek instead and sighed softly. “But above all… you’re human. And you accept that. You have convictions and you stand by them. No matter what. You’re brave. You’re-”

Tooru sniffled, eyes red-rimmed, and he shook his head, but those warm brown eyes never left. “That’s enough, Hajime,” he croaked. “I… I believe you.”

Hajime smiled. “Good.” _You’ll be an amazing captain. I want to be the ace you deserve._

Those hands reached forward as tears slipped along Tooru’s face and into that messy hair, spotted with space and alien-themed hair clips. “You _are_ the ace I deserve.”

“Oh hell,” Hajime mumbled, but he didn’t fight it. He just leaned into those hands and held them tight as he let his eyes close.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tooru’s fingers twitched. “Really, I love you… but you’re fucking _heavy_ . How much tofu have you been _eating_?”

His eyes snapped open and Hajime glared down a his friend. “Excuse you, this is pure _muscle_.”

Tooru’s eyes glittered as he grinned and tugged on Hajime’s hands until he could drop their overlapping hands along his neck and down to his chest. “Yes, yes it is.” Hajime swatted Tooru’s arm and rolled off to his old position beside him as Tooru cracked up, loud, sweet laughter that made his insides twist delightfully. It died away, left them lying in a bed that had grown too small to hold the two of them, staring at stars from another lifetime.

“Hajime.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to try and go to Tokyo. For college.”

“I know.”

“I…” His voice managed to crack on that syllable, and with it Hajime’s heart cracked a little too. “I want to be selfish,” Tooru whispered. “I want to take you with me - I want to _demand_ that you come with me. But… I want you to be happy too. To go somewhere that you won’t regret.”

“I wouldn’t regret going with you,” he murmured, but Tooru shook his head.

“You would. You _hate_ the city. I know you’re looking at something local. But even if we split up… we don’t have to _break up_ , yeah?”

Hajime sat up. Tooru didn’t try to hide the tears, and he didn’t move as Hajime cupped his cheek, wiped them away. “Of course not,” he grumbled, gruff with how he tried to bite back his own emotions. “But shut the fuck up. It’s still a year away.”

Laughter bubbled out and Tooru curled into him, settled so that his head was pillowed in his lap, his hands curled tight into Hajime’s sweatshirt. “I’m stealing this when we go though.”

“Fine. Just don’t blame me when everyone laughs ‘cause it doesn’t fit.” Tooru just smiled and snuggled closer with a content hum. Hajime stared at him for a moment before he allowed a smile to flicker to life. His fingers settled into those soft brown curls. He tugged gently.

The door banged open and they both jolted. “What’s up bitches!” Issei crowed, Takahiro giggling behind them.

Hajime groaned and slumped back onto the bed as Tooru rose, laughing enough to shake the bed. “You’re _late_.”

“Sorry, you know how Takahiro is a slut for his creme puffs.”

Takahiro grinned cheekily as he waved several bags in his hand. Hajime sniffed, and then he shot up with a faint smile. “Is that tofu?”

Takahiro just dropped the bags onto his bed and stripped off his jacket. Hajime pulled it closer, and the four of them found their places on the floor. They passed cartons of food and chopsticks around, and dug in with gusto, no talk. Hajime wasn’t even sure if Tooru or Issei _breathed_ as they shoveled down noodles and rice and swiped food from anyone who didn’t watch their containers close enough.

Soon enough they finished, and Takahiro sprawled back on the floor as Tooru lounged against the bed and Issei scratched at their undercut. “Well,” Tooru sighed as he scratched his stomach, “That’s a good way to prepare for the exams that are going to _end_ us.”

Takahiro laughed, perhaps a little hysterical, and covered his face. “Don’t remind me,” he whispered, “I’m gonna _flop_ that English exam.”

Issei swatted him. “No you’re not. You’ve studied enough with me that if you fail it I _will_ end you personally.”

Takahiro grinned and propped himself up so he could glance at them all. “Exam: failed. Datemate: disappointed. Life: ruined. I am forcibly ended by my datemate.”

Issei threw a chopstick at Takahiro, but that only made him fall back and giggle as he clutched his sides. Hajime grinned and watched him squirm on the floor, far too pleased to be healthy. But they were all _happy_. And he didn’t know who to look at. Whether to focus on the soft, warm smile that graced Tooru’s lips and softened the features that had shed their baby fat months before. Or Issei, cheeks a little rounder and rosier, dark eyes shining and teeth flashing. And Takahiro, tears in his eyes as he laughed harder, uncontrollable.

“And I fell in love with you idiots of all people.”

The noise died away and three pairs of eyes turned to Hajime. Heat flooded his cheeks, but he didn’t hide his face. His stared them all down instead until small smiles flickered onto their faces.

“Aw,” Issei cooed as they pressed their hands to their cheeks and batted thick eyelashes at him, “You _do_ love us! Hajime!”

“My skin is clear! My crops are thriving! My grades are up! I have twenty-twenty vision! The-”

“No you don’t, Taka.”

“ _Shush Issei_. The sun is shining!” Takahiro burst into fresh laughter, but this time they all couldn’t help but join in, the light giggles infectious in a way Hajime wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever understand. But he grinned along and shook his head as the room filled with warmth.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when the noise subsided that Tooru looked at them all, thoughtful and soft. Issei blinked, broke the quiet first. “Tooru, did your boyfriend break you?”

Tooru flashed them a wry smile and shook his head. “No, not this time. Just… we should talk.”

“About…?” Takahiro prodded when Tooru lapsed into silence, and he smiled again.

“About us. Romance. The red strings.”

Issei and Takahiro’s eyes snapped to Hajime, and heat prickled at the back of his neck as he rubbed his wrist, then his pinky. The threads trembled under his fingers. Glimpses of smiling faces washed over him in a haze of warmth and he couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of his lips. “That… would be good,” Issei said quietly, and they looked to their boyfriend.

Takahiro tangled his fingers into his brown hair with a shy laugh, all his earlier bluster suddenly gone. “Agreed.”

Tooru grinned and clapped his hands. “Great. I think we should all just state our feelings for each other then and get that out into the open!” No one made to speak. After a minute Tooru grinned and shook his head with a sigh. “Fine. Well… let me just say that just because we love more than one person doesn’t mean that we’re not enough individually, okay? Fate is funny like that.”

Hajime nodded. Touched the orange strand to his mother. The image of her in his mind pushed her hair back, those tattered strings swaying, before it disappeared. The others nodded too.

Tooru spread his hands out, calloused, but still warm and soft. “I love Hajime. I have since we were little, but even more when I realized what love actually _was_. But falling for you too was just as natural as it was to love him. It… feels right. I like imagining life with you guys, so… yeah.”

“Eloquent,” Takahiro teased, but his smile was weak, and the middle finger Tooru flashed at him matched. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously before he sighed. He shook his head. “I know what you mean though. I can’t imagine _not_ having to deal with you assholes.” Issei smacked his knee and Takahiro grinned. “Being around you guys… It’s really special, y’know? Because I love all of you lots. Tooru with his stupid obsession with aliens. Hajime with his beefy arms _to die for_. Issei’s got them nice legs, daisy dukes-”

“Make a man go _woo-hoo_ ,” Issei said softly, and the pair grinned at each other. Issei fiddled with their fingers for a moment before they smiled at the other three, impossibly soft and sweet. “You guys mean the world to me. You’ve helped me so much, but it’s more than that. It’s… the patience you’ve had. The way you try to make me happy and comfortable. It’s the memes Takahiro sends me at two in the morning, and the American movie marathons Tooru asks me to join, and the way Hajime stays up super late to read over my stories and tell me what he thinks. It’s…” Issei’s hands opened up, then squeezed shut. They smiled crookedly, eyes scrunched up. “It’s those things and more.”

“Well damn,” Tooru murmured as he wiped a fake tear away, “You guys are gonna put me in the hospital with how damn sweet you are.” The pair just grinned, and Tooru met that with a smile of his own, so genuine and warm that Hajime’s chest ached.

He barely noticed when those eyes turned back to him at first, but when he did the words were easy for once. “Tooru is more genuine now that you guys are around.” Eyebrows arched and Tooru pressed a hand over his mouth. Hajime ignored the shine in his eyes. The ‘O’ Takahiro’s lips had fallen into. Just barrelled on. “It’s clear he loves you. Just like I do. I can’t imagine you two apart. I want you both together, just with us too. Guess I’m a selfish ass. The strings aren’t concrete. They’re the potential for good and bad. And this is the only potential I’ve really hoped to see happen.”

“Aw!” Issei cooed, “Hajime, you’re so sweet.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, cheeks flushed.

They just laughed as Tooru sniffed quietly and shook his head. “Love you too, Hajime.”

“Stick it, shit head.”

Tooru stuck his tongue out, a childish move that made the other three burst into laughter once more. Hajime didn’t mind a bit. He just grinned and laughed until his cheeks and sides hurt, and when they were done he pressed toes to Tooru’s knee, comforting. “Well,” the brunet said after a minute, “I guess we all know now?”

“That we’re super gay for each other?” Takahiro grinned cheekily, “Fuck yeah.” Hajime shook his head and Tooru copied the movement, though the smile on his face betrayed him and his amusement.

“You know,” Issei said softly, “If someone had told me on the first day at Seijoh that I’d fall in love with three adorable assholes, I’d have laughed. But here we are.”

_Here we are indeed._

Four teens with little else but volleyball and surviving classes on their minds. Four teens with strands of green and red that tied them together, stronger than any Hajime had ever seen.

_Thank God._

When the new semester began it was only natural to walk to school with the other three, their bikes clicking beside them, their laughter filling the early spring morning. Natural to find them and take over desks in Tooru’s class for lunch and eat, and then tangle his fingers into Issei’s soft curls, to hook an ankle around Takahiro’s, to lean into Tooru’s warm shoulder. Familiar yet brand-new to walk into that gym with the confidence of a third-year and the ace on his shoulders. To pack everything up and start home, walking slowly with the other three down the deserted street, lined on either side with cherry blossoms.

Hajime stopped and the other three continued a few more paces before Takahiro noticed and turned, the others a moment behind him. “Hajime?” Takahiro called softly.

There were soft pink cherry blossoms on his shoulders. They littered Issei’s mess of curls, and somehow made Tooru look like someone straight out of those weird shojo mangas Takahiro read. It shouldn’t have made his heart stop, seeing those familiar faces that he’d seen almost every day for the last two years under darkness and a streetlight, still glistening with sweat, but it did.

“Iwa?” Tooru said, his new ‘captain tone’ still lingering in the edges of his voice.

Hajime smiled. “I love you idiots so much.”

A moment of silence.

A bike clattered to the ground as Issei darted forward. Their fingers were cool as they curled through his hair, but their lips were warm. Hajime fell back a step, but he caught them both and wound his arms around Issei with a content hum. They grinned against his mouth, pulled back only to pepper kisses all across his cheeks, his nose, his chin, back to his mouth.

“I love you too,” Issei whispered sweetly, and Hajime hugged them tighter, even as they leaned back a little so Takahiro could nose his way in for a kiss too, lips chapped and rougher than Issei’s, but still wonderful. Tooru followed a moment later, his so familiar and warm, just like the laughter that filled their little circle as cherry blossoms fell onto their heads and hands found their way into other hands. Hajime leaned in and grinned, eyes shut tight and heart throbbing as something in his chest fluttered, buoyed by the laughter of his boyfriends.

The trees were in full bloom. Spring had come. A new year of school and volleyball was upon them once more. But the black thread that had hung overhead for months was gone. Instead all that remained were strengthening oranges, unyielding greens, and adoring reds. They were whole - and the threads were no longer bare.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged ヽ(〃･ω･)ﾉ  
> Find me at [fairylights101writes](http://fairylights101writes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day/night/existence!


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